


Arrogance is the New Black

by StoneAndRoses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Probably ooc, Professors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoneAndRoses/pseuds/StoneAndRoses
Summary: Hermione Granger is happily teaching Arithmancy at Hogwarts when Draco Malfoy crashes her party as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And he calls her arrogant. Snark and hilarity ensue. Somewhat slow-burn Dramione, from both of their POVs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've done a lot of fanfiction reading, but have never written one! As a grad student in a writing heavy field, I figured it was about time. I've got about half (or what I think will be half) of this story written, but we'll see where this goes!
> 
> Thanks to my beta Belisama! You're a gem for pushing me to write a fic and also reviewing it!

Hermione Granger always gave the same answer when asked why she still taught at Hogwarts; why she didn’t want to become the next Minister of Magic, even though she was assured by many people that she would have the votes. She told them it was for the betterment of wizarding society, grooming the next generation, and getting to do her own research and pet projects without justifying them to anyone. What she didn't mention were the little things. Like late-August Scottish afternoons. There was always a light breeze blowing across the lake, the sun was normally shining, and the air was starting to crisp up. 

This was one of those afternoons. Hermione took a deep breath and leaned back against the rough trunk of her favorite tree. She always attempted to enjoy the grounds before the students stormed them like Normandy when they returned in September. Although she loved to read under the trees, being the Head of Gryffindor always made that too complicated for her liking during the school year. She couldn't ignore the hair pulling or snogging - she would never hear the end from Minerva if she did. 

There were other little perks too. Like the food. Oh, the food. Not that she wasn't an okay cook, but the house elves were culinary geniuses. How they got the creme brulee so crisp yet so silky without burning it was a puzzle she would seemingly never solve. And she loved puzzles. 

She loved puzzles so much that they became her life. There was a betting pool amongst the Weasleys and her other friends about which subject Hermione would choose for her mastery after their seventh year. Surprisingly to some, Arthur took home the pot with his prediction of Arithmancy. Hermione was enamored with the idea that numbers had different magical properties. There was so much potential, including numerology, and predicting the future; much better than divination in her mind. It allowed for control, pursuing knowledge, projects that spanned other subjects, and not having to teach the younger students. Hermione knew she was a nightmare first year, and the thought of teaching students like herself, or like Goyle, the beginnings of complex algorithms made her shudder. There was a particular type of student who sought out Arithmancy during their fourth years, and she loved them.

In addition to losing the bet, Ron Weasley lost interest. They quickly remembered (or realized, as it was for Ron) that they wanted different lives. Hermione wanted to learn more, wring the knowledge out of every library in existence, and to add to that wisdom. Ron wanted a family, and time to relax after what had been an overly eventful young life thus far. Six months after starting her apprenticeship, Ron was engaged to Luna Lovegood of all people. He now worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, helping to regulate and plan the Quidditch World Cups. He was living his dream life.

But despite what everyone thought, Hermione was content. Especially now, with her book in hand and thermos of steaming tea next to her. So as soon as the long shadow crossed her feet and continued to her book and face she was confused. Looking up from her Neil Gaiman novel, her face melted into a scowl.

“Of course you're sitting here reading Granger. Wasn't this your favorite haunt during our second year?” came an all too familiar voice. Draco Malfoy was inexplicably standing in front of her on the Hogwarts grounds blocking her reading light. 

Admittedly, she had ignored much of the gossip surrounding him over the years - she didn’t even know what he had been doing for the last four years of his life. The last time she saw him was at a random Ministry function a couple years after graduation that Ginny and Luna had dragged her to. If she remembered correctly, they had had an unfortunate and uncomfortable exchange near the open bar... But she didn't completely recall the whole night, so she sincerely hoped that was the case. There was a reason she didn’t drink gin anymore. That may have been it.

“Hello to you too Malfoy. Is there a reason you're inhibiting me from continuing my fantastic adventure into another world this afternoon?” she replied briskly. 

“I didn’t know that you exclusively had access to the grounds of Hogwarts,” he cooly replied. 

“That’s not what I meant, you arse. Why are you even on the Hogwarts grounds?” she quickly questioned. Wasn’t her reason for confusion clear? Now that she thought about it, he was probably here to schmooze and throw some money around before the school year started.

“Granger, Granger, Granger...Didn’t you hear? I’m the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

A quick calculation in her head told her that there was in fact a 3.2% chance that this would have been the statement that came out of his mouth. And it was the last thing she had expected to hear. 

\---------------

“Hermione, calm down.”

“Calm down, Minerva? You expect me to be calm? The biggest bully Hogwarts has seen in years is now teaching?” she yelled somewhat hysterically. “How could you not tell me about this?”

Minerva sighed, and sat back in her green, velvet, wingback chair behind the giant oak desk. Hermione internally prepared herself for a lecture. At this point, Albus would have handed her a lemon drop; instead Minerva was going to drop some wisdom on her. 

“This, my dear. This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. This reaction. Have you even talked to him besides dressing him down on the grounds today? Do I need to remind you that he finished third in your class behind yourself and Mr. Boot? Young Mr. Malfoy has done a lot of personal growing in the last few years.” Minerva looked exasperated. But then, here came the wry, cheshire smile; she was about to shut the door on this conversation, “He did his Mastery with the most renowned Dark Arts Master in France. If I remember correctly, that same Master wouldn’t even accept you for a summer study.”

“What? That can’t be.” It really couldn’t, there was only a .02% chance Malfoy did his apprenticeship with Master Pierre-Dubois. 

“My dear, you are not always the smartest person in the room. Normally, yes. But sometimes other people can surprise you. I’d also like to remind you that you’re not Deputy Headmistress. You will most likely be at some point, but not yet. So I don’t have to double check every decision with you,” she finished with her authoritative voice. Hermione knew she needed to stop soon, Minerva was on her last thread. 

“Fine. If he can work with Pierre-Dubois, he’ll likely be a good fit,” Hermione conceded. “Not to mention he mended the vanishing cabinet as a sixth year. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think his past will help.”

McGonagall's eyes twinkled. In Hermione’s experience, that was never a good sign. “I knew you’d come around. And yes, hopefully a reformed, albeit forced, former Death Eater will finally break this blasted curse on the position. I really thought Potter would finally set the standard last year.”

Ha. Hermione could have told her, and did, without doing any arithmancy that it wouldn’t happen. Harry didn’t have a mastery, he was still head over heels for Ginny who refused to live in the castle all year, was ready to start a family, and there was just too much damn history in the castle for him. He barely made it through the whole term. 

“Let’s hope so Minerva, we’re running out of people. Clearly,” Hermione knew that was a little below the belt, but added it anyway.

Minerva looked down her nose, “Behave young lady. I expect you two to get along. I don’t need you fighting like you did in third year.” At Hermione’s shocked look Minerva actually laughed, “My dear, you know now how fast rumors travel though Hogwarts, even with Professors. Filius used to call it ‘the slap heard round-the-wizarding world.’” 

Hermione jokingly crossed her chest in the Catholic tradition like the good school girl she was. “I promise. Well, at least I’ll do my best.” That really was the best Hermione could do right now. Who knew what the ferret might do, if she was provoked it was likely ( a 67.4% chance) she would respond in kind. 

\---------------

“Seriously Neville, I don’t know how they do it. I spent about 2 weeks this summer trying to crack this, and I still don’t know. I am about two more failed attempts away from just asking,” Hermione confessed with a laugh. She and Neville Longbottom, Herbology expert extraordinaire, were basking in post-feast creme brulee glory.

Sorting was always one of her favorite moments of the school year. Since becoming Head of House, it became even better. Knowing that everything was changing in the student’s lives, and that it was such a pivotal moment was intriguing. Of course, she could predict a lot of the placements, but still. Luckily there was more semblance of inter-house unity these days, unlike when she had been in school. Slytherins and Gryffindors had prank wars, not real ones where they attempted to poison each other. Getting a certain house didn’t damn you to a certain fate.

“You couldn’t figure it out? Hermione, I had so much faith in you making my weekends that much better. They only serve it like once a month. Didn’t you predict it would only take 5 days for you to crack?” Neville said trying not to laugh, but increasingly failing at that task.

“I was sure I could figure it out. The numbers told me so. I’m defying all of numerology right now. Or, more accurately, the house elves are.”

“Granger, I didn’t know you knew your way around the kitchen. If I did, I would have been talking to you more,” drawled none other than Blaise Zabini. Somehow, he had been hired as the flying instructor last year. Apparently, as Hermione did not keep track of these things, Blaise was a stellar professional quidditch player with the Ballycastle Bats. But a desperate, jilted ex-lover slammed a door on his hand, and that was the end of his professional career. His hand was fine now, but some small fracture couldn't be healed properly, and the team was sick of the bad press. Now he slithered around castle, trying to encourage confidence in flying lessons, and revolutionizing the Quidditch program. He frequently got on Hermione’s nerves, unsurprisingly. Now, the dynamic Slytherin duo were on the faculty. Together. Hermione had to actively flex her face muscles to hold in her eye roll.

“Zabini, I know you think I live in the library. And I know this may come as a shock since I am a witch between the age of eighteen and forty, but I just don't want to invite you to my chambers. Also, you are never here on the weekends without Quidditch somehow,” she tried to say evenly. 

“It's fine Granger, I know you're just scared that I’d be the best thing that ever happened to you. And I am counting getting top marks and saving the wizarding world in that statement. Don't get your, assuredly plain, panties in a twist,” sneered Zabini. 

Neville vallantly jumped in, “Now Zabini, that doesn’t seem to be the proper way to speak to a colleague, not to mention a female colleague.” 

“Nobody asked you Longbottom,” said Malfoy, calmly, “She is clearly a strong woman. She clearly believes that she can handle herself. Some may even say she’s arrogant.” He finished that statement rising from the table to head towards his chambers. 

Hermione would like to say her first opportunity to talk back to her childhood bully was a shining success. However, if she were to analyze this moment, even five minutes afterwards, she could not get remotely close to calling this a success. She was still sputtering in her seat, spoon having fallen into the remaining custard of her brulee; she may have never snapped out of it if Neville had not touched her shoulder.

Jolting out of her shock, Hermione finally got up from the table and began stomping down the center aisle and out the hall with the dignity that she thought was deserving of a Head of House. To the outside observer however, she looked like a salty sixth year Gryffindor chasing after a pompous Slytherin. If she had been paying attention to anything other than the white blonde head making its way to the stairs, she would have heard Flitwick dying of laughter into his plate. She also might have noticed Neville and Blaise whispering to each other, then Blaise smirking and shaking Neville’s hand.

\---------------

“Now wait a second Malfoy…” called Hermione firmly, making her way up the staircase.

Turning slowly in her direction, Malfoy glanced over his shoulder. “Yes Professor Granger? How may I be of assistance?” questioned Malfoy in his best aristocratic voice. He sounded eerily like his father.

“Malfoy,” she said offering him her hand, “I want to make sure that we’re going to be okay this year,” stated Hermione diplomatically.

Draco minutely looked to the ceiling, looking down at her once she stopped on the step in front of him, refusing to take her hand. Making eye contact with him was odd. It struck her that she hadn’t really made eye contact with him really at all. And she knew this because as awful as it sounded (come on Hermione, Elizabeth Bennet doesn’t have this problem, neither does Princess Leia), she was lost in his gaze. How were his eyes this silver? Unfortunately, his lips were also moving…

“...Headmistress loves you. We’re adults, I expect that we won’t have a problem. Our chambers are in different sections of the castle, our classes are at the same time, and the dinner table literally demands polite conversation. And don’t get me wrong, we probably have a lot in common, and I suspect our brains would make excellent collaborators, but there’s something about it that makes me hesitate…” he trailed off. 

Hermione was puzzled. Did he just admit that they would probably get along? The digits began whirring in her head, and for the first time in a while, there was no clear number. There were a few vague percentages, but they didn’t make sense: 4.8%, 39.1%, 98.7% and 300%. That was all over the place. The last time she had this big of a spread was predicting when Ginny was going to get pregnant. Her confusion and frustration must have shown on her face. 

“You know what Granger? I stand by my statement at the table, have you even been listening to me? I can practically see the numbers going in your head for whatever pet project you’re working on. Arrogance doesn’t suit you Granger.”

Now the number was clear. The number was 50. There was a 1 in 2 chance that something good was going to happen, and the same odds that something bad was going to happen. Hermione wasn’t sure which side of the coin she would get.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my awesome beta Belisama! You're the best my dear :) 
> 
> We'll get to hear from Draco this chapter... Enjoy!

It had been a long first month of school. Thus, Hermione found herself in Greenhouse Four, on a lovely Friday afternoon, lying on her back, complaining to Neville as he tended to some plants. 

“I just don’t get it. They normally do their homework so well, but it’s been like pulling teeth. I feel like my parents, something that I’d never thought I’d say.” Speaking of her parents, she owed them a letter. 

She loved her parents, and was so glad they were somehow still a part of her life. Her father liked to take a shot at her on occasion for the whole extended trip to Australia predicament. Her mother, on the other hand, had immediately forgiven her in a flood of tears. They knew how she would never forgive herself, even now, despite it being the correct choice. The three of them had dinner once a month, with the exception of September, to give her a chance to settle in. 

“Mine have been restless too Hermione. I’m not really sure what’s gotten into them. It must be the warm weather,” Neville trailed off as he wrangled a disorderly vine. “Maybe Hogsmeade and Quidditch coming up soon is to blame. Once those two weekends are over, maybe everyone will settle in.” 

Hermione had almost forgotten, she loathed those weekends. Students ran amuck and didn’t do their homework. Quidditch and Hogsmeade in their own right were tolerable. Well, Hogsmeade more so than Quidditch - she still kind of hated it. But add hormonal teenagers and house rivalries, and everything went to shit. 

Suddenly, she remembered something, “Say Neville, do you know what the chaperone schedule looks like? I must have not caught it at the last staff meeting. I can’t believe I forgot to ask until now.” 

Neville paled. “About that...they’ve been posted in the staff room for two weeks. Have you not looked? Better yet, have you not talked to McGonagall about them?” 

“Why would I need to do that?”

“Oh, you’re not going to like this.”

\---------------

“Seriously Minerva? I thought we had an agreement.” said Hermione with a dangerous edge to her voice. 

“Hermione, you know we’re trying to foster inter-house unity. It makes sense for you to chaperone the first trip with Professor Malfoy. You are one of the students’ favorite professors. And they don’t want to make you angry so they’ll behave. It’ll help Malfoy get more support...not that he needs it apparently,” Minerva finished quietly. She looked like she didn’t have much time for Hermione’s complaining today. 

“What do you mean doesn’t need it? Do the students actually like him?” she quickly regretted that comment; even that was a little harsh for Malfoy. He did have charisma, so the students probably loved him.

“Yes. It sounds like they like him a lot. From what I can tell, he’s taken some cues from when Remus held the position. The third years loved the boggart exercise last week.”

Now that surprised Hermione. She distinctly remembered Draco -- wait Draco? -- Malfoy sitting at the back of the room scoffing at how child-like everyone was being during that particular exercise. Did he respect Remus? Better yet, what was his boggart? He had never done the activity...

“Interesting...but really Minerva. I would even chaperone with Zabini. Please don’t make me go with Malfoy.”

The older witch threw her head back in laughter. “Be careful what you wish for my dear. You may have to beat Professor Zabini off with a stick if you were to get anywhere near Madame Rosmerta’s or Madam Puddifoot's.”

She was right, Zabini was probably worse. But just barely. “Fine. I concede. But I can’t make any promises Minerva.”

“I’d thought you’d come in with solid numbers my dear, you aren’t going soft on me are you?”

Hermione sighed, “That’s just it Minerva… I don’t have any solid numbers. They’ve let me down. With this and the creme brulee.” 

“Hmm,” intoned Minerva, sitting back in her chair. “Well I’m not surprised about the house elves, but young Mr. Malfoy is...interesting… you’ll keep me updated if this continues…?”

“Of course. I’ll see you at dinner.” 

As Hermione wound down the Headmistress’ staircase, she became lost in thought. This happened frequently according to Ron and Harry... and Ginny, and Susan, and Pavarti, and Lavender; even Neville called her out every once in a while. Luna was the only one who didn’t say anything about it. Probably because she was equally lost and floating in her own thoughts. She really owed Luna a letter too. 

79% of the time Luna knew exactly what to say, even if it didn’t seem that way at the time, and her predictions were almost better than Hermione’s. Hermione’s margin of error was 3.4, Luna’s was 4.2. Hermione had yet to figure out how that was even possible. If she didn’t know what was going on, or how to handle Malfoy, maybe Luna would.

\---------------

She really shouldn’t be doing this. Her predictions told her that she was going to get caught, or, at the very least, McGonagall would find out and say something. But Minerva’s comment about Malfoy’s teaching had piqued her interest. It was a gorgeous day, and her class had exceeded her expectations and finished their assignments early. Knowing what she was like as a pupil, she let them leave early, commanding them to go enjoy some sun. She busied herself as they left, but after twenty minutes she checked the library to make sure that nobody was studying, and looked out the window from there to ensure they were outside. 

With that mission complete she had snuck her way to the DADA classroom. He would have the sixth years this hour. When she got within spitting distance she heard an abrupt round of laughter. That couldn’t be right...

She edged closer to the door and began to listen. 

“That’s right McBlair, we can’t do that because of The Exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Other questions about today’s lecture?”

Why in the world was he talking about Gamp? She was the only non-transfiguration minded person who enjoyed discussing it. Maybe he did know what he was doing…

“Excuse me, Professor Malfoy…?” she heard the shy girl, Parsons, begin to ask.

“Yes, Parsons?”

“I hope you don’t find this too forward...but what do you think of when you cast a patronus?”

Parsons really was a girl after her own heart. That was an excellent, and intriguing question. 

“That’s a great question Parsons, five points to Ravenclaw. It’s a bit personal yes, but I think it’s good to understand what people think of. It took me quite a long time to master this spell, thus why we’re starting small, and starting now. I don’t expect you to be able to cast this maybe until next year, but we’ll see.” Hermione actually enjoyed his lecturing voice. It was calm, and didn’t sound snooty at all. “As many of you probably know, Harry Potter famously thinks of his father, and at times his friends. That’s not a specific memory, but the feeling is effective. Mine is different, I think of a specific moment…” he began to trail off. 

Hermione wondered what it was, maybe something in his childhood? Or during his mastery? 

“It’s actually quite ironic that my happy moment was a moment during the Second Wizarding War,” you could now hear a quill drop in the classroom. “I made it out of a bad situation with the help of some people who, at the time, should not have helped me. Probably the happiest I have ever been to see a broom.”

Hermione’s breath caught. He just admitted to thinking of her and her friends when he cast a patronus. Although she didn’t think of it much, she, Ron, and Harry really had saved Draco’s life. And that was no small moment for him apparently. 

“Why don’t we ask another expert. Professor Granger - what do you think of when you cast a patronus?” came Malfoy’s voice at a slightly louder volume, breaking her out of her thoughts.

How the bloody hell did he know she was standing here? She must have gasped louder than she thought. Shaking off some of her embarrassment, she turned the corner and entered the back of the classroom. This was probably going to be embarrassing (83% chance in fact). 

“Actually, the patronus charm is something I still struggle with.” She heard a couple gasps, “I know, I know, Professors aren’t perfect. But I think of a moment my third year of Hogwarts. I worked very hard to defend a good friend, so much so that I came to blows with a fellow student.” She looked at Draco, whos smirk had slipped, although he quickly recovered to a look of interest in her answer. She chuckled, “I must admit it was very gratifying for me.”

“Interesting answer Professor,” he then looked to address the class, “But please do not take that as a cue to start fisticuffs anytime soon. Class dismissed.” Chuckles broke out as the bell rang. As the students began to pack up he added, “Don’t forget your twelve inches about the defensive spells we discussed today for next week!”

As the students finished shuffling out Hermione began moving to the front of the classroom. 

“Keeping tabs on my teaching, Granger? I expect that’s McGonagall’s job,” he said with a slight snarl to his voice. 

“Not at all Professor Malfoy. My class finished early and I decided to talk a walk. I was intrigued when I heard laughing, and was sucked in by Gamp’s Law.”

“Of course you were,” he said laughing, “You never stopped talking about it at school. Speaking of which, do you really think of punching me in the face to cast a patronus?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a coy smile. “I almost lied, but couldn’t think of anything better. ‘Saving the wizarding world’ is too easy of an answer.”

He nodded, “Fair enough.” He grabbed his things and began to walk towards the staircase. The air had become stale, and she was glad he was ending it. She wasn’t quite sure what to do, it hadn’t been the best exchange between them so far, but not the worst. 

“Oh and Granger,” Malfoy said, turning back to her. “Before you ask, yes I do think of that day in the Room of Requirement, which I never thanked you for.” Malfoy paused, hesitant. “So I’ll say it now - thank you. Don’t expect me to repeat that for Potter or Weaslby. Enjoy the rest of your...walk.”

Hermione was left staring after him, mouth agape. While it was quite clear he knew she hadn’t gone for a walk and diverted, it was also starting to become clear that he might not be the worst human being.

\---------------

Draco desperately missed being on a broom; presidents of companies didn’t ride brooms, apprentices didn’t have time to ride brooms, and pureblood heirs were often discouraged from riding brooms (have to protect the family jewels, of course). He hadn’t really noticed his lack of routine flying until he was up on his broom soaring over the Black Lake with Blaise post-dinner. He was free up in the air. And literally everyone said that about flying, but it was the true. This was definitely a small perk to add to the growing list bonuses of being on the Hogwarts faculty.

As they looped back to the Quidditch stadium he couldn’t help but reflect on how happy he was to be back at Hogwarts. Despite many sombre or downright awful memories, he felt safe here. It felt like home, somehow more than the Manor did. 

He had lost himself the first few years after school. With Mother and Father leaving for the French country home permanently, he was left with a manor house and a company, neither of which he wanted. He had to keep the company afloat to help resurrect the family name, or so said his Father. But it made him bloody miserable. He hated listening to old wizards drone on about decisions and products that, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t matter at all. He wanted more. His brain would slowly melt into a soupy mess if he didn’t engage it more regularly; he had started to go a little mad.

So he sold the Manor to some crazy person who wanted to make it into a museum, left Malfoy Industries in the capable hands of the Board, and moved to France to work with Pierre-Dubois. There were two reasons he was taken on as an apprentice: he was a former death eater with experience in the Dark Arts, and Draco wouldn’t take no for an answer. It took him 13 months to convince the old man, but he was finally allowed to complete his Mastery. Granger couldn’t even get Pierre-Dubois to work with her for a month. When PD had mentioned it in passing, Draco had been on cloud nine for the rest of the week. Something he finally beat Granger at.

Towards the end of his thesis project, he received McGonagall's letter about Potter quitting and was overjoyed. He needed to get out of France and back to Brittain. He wanted to put his hard work to use; finally do something positive for the British wizarding community. Hogwarts was likely the best way, as the Ministry probably wasn’t ready to take him quite yet. And frankly, he still wanted to tell the Ministry they could fuck off. 

What he hadn’t expected was Granger. Draco didn’t have time to pay attention to any of the current wizarding gossip, and she was too far out of his Mother’s radar for her to pass him any information. In retrospect, how could she not be at Hogwarts? She really was a genius. Something she further proved by going into Arithmancy and getting one of the highest scores on a Mastery exam. Ever. Period. Across disciplines. The only people to beat her score in the past two centuries were his godfather, Severus Snape, and Albus Dumbledore himself. Despite all his effort, he never could keep up with her while they were at Hogwarts - that girl was a machine. 

These days whenever they had a civil conversation at dinner, even if it was forced, he got the sense they would actually really get along. He wasn’t sure she was ready to let go of all their history, and he couldn’t blame her, but maybe he should start making more effort. Even if she had a bit of an arrogant air about her.

“Draco? Earth to Draco! Did you even hear me mate?” questioned Blaise, giving him a knowing look. 

“Sorry, no. I was gathering wool.”

“Gathering wool?” Blaise smirked. Oh no, what had he said wrong? “That’s a Granger saying. Would it be accurate to say you were gathering wool with her?”

“Blaise...I told you…”

“I know mate, I know. But even I’ll admit she’s quite the woman. Gorgeous legs, strong head between her shoulders, if you two had children they could literally take over the world.”

Draco almost fell off his broom, “Children? Blaise, she barely talks to me if she doesn’t have to. Besides, I don’t even know if I want children. Maybe it’s better that I’m the last Malfoy... Either way, that’s getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Maybe she ignores you now, but I see the way she looks at you and can practically hear the numbers being crunched. I think she’s trying to predict what's going to happen if she’s friendly.” Blaise was being honest. And he hadn’t made one comment about her lovely -- wait lovely? -- breasts. That was a big step for him.

Draco sighed, “Well, she can’t ignore me next weekend, we’re chaperoning Hogsmeade together. Thanks for that by the way.” Blasie gave him a look of confusion. “Don’t think I don’t know what you and Longbottom did. You went around our backs to the headmistress; you and I were supposed to do the second weekend with Longbottom and Granger doing the first.” 

He did not need Blaise meddling. The last time that happened was at Astoria Greengrass’ wedding to Theodore Nott soon after the war. Blaise had attempted to set him up with her sister Daphne, and it had gone downhill quickly. Not because of the unreasonable quantity of firewhiskey that had been involved, or the ridiculous dancing and stuffy formal robes -- he looked amazing in formal robes and wished he had more excuses to wear them. It was mostly because Daphne only had eyes for Pansy Parkinson. Speaking of which, he really needed to send the newly minted Parkinsons a “Congratulations on your Elopement” card. If they even made those.

Blaise smirked and tried to look innocent, “Whatever do you mean Professor Malfoy?” Yup. That confirmed it. Zabini and Longbottom were plotting. He was unsure of how to feel; Blaise was all too good at it, but didn’t pay attention to detail, and Longbottom didn’t seem to have a Slytherin bone in his body. Blaise ignored the sharp look he gave him and continued, “I’m just saying. You could do a lot worse. And being friendly would make being here a little easier. Then you wouldn’t have to talk to just me. We as the young faculty have got to stick together. Especially if you want to snuff out that little twenty-two year old DADA curse,” Blaise finished with a laugh. 

“Whatever you say mate. You ready for the game tomorrow?” Changing the topic seemed appropriate, finally. He and Blaise had their occasional bonding moments, but Draco would prefer not to talk about Granger until he even knew what was going on inside his own head, thank you very much.

“Yea. I think it’ll be a good match. Ravenclaw’s got quite the set of beaters, but Gryffindor’s got a great set of chasers. Both of the seekers are pretty bloody good. You’re coming to watch of course?”

“Yeah I’ll be there. I would love to see the lions lose, obviously. But also the entirety of Ravenclaw’s team is in class with me, so I feel obligated to support,” Draco smirked with a hint of irony in his voice. He tried really hard to be impartial. Most of the Gryffindors were in class with him as well, but he didn’t want to see them win. He was a Slytherin die hard, and used to be on the team. It would be unnatural to cheer for Gryffindor.

As they began to land to head in for dinner Blaise spoke up again, “You know Granger will be there. You should sit with her.”

“Doesn’t she hate Quidditch?”

Blaise laughed, “Yes. She hasn’t been on a broom in nine years, she always mumbles something about heights and death traps when I offer to take her flying. She doesn’t get why the game is such a big deal. But she comes to support her house. I think McGonagall might actually fire her if she didn’t come to at least the Gryffindor games. Normally she brings some knitting or a book.”

“Hmmmm, are you sure you want me to get friendly with her? Sounds like you’ve been watching her during the games instead of doing your job,” Draco retorted playfully.

“Mate you can’t blame me. Who else am I going to look at? Sinestra? Pomfrey? Granger’s the only woman who isn’t a student that’s within twenty years of my age.”

They both laughed at this. Blaise was always thinking of women. Being the flying instructor really was the perfect job for him, except that he lived in an isolated region of Scotland surrounded by tweens. “I’ll give you that. There have to at least be a few lookers in the village?”

“Yeah, but they’re all not exactly the brightest bulbs. Fun for a night but nothing to actually invest in. I’m going to make an exception for this one. I’ll give you a grace period, but after Christmas I’m going to start trying to get to know Granger more if you don’t get the bollocks to do it first.”

Draco could only laugh. “Sure mate, sure.”

\---------------

“Ready to lose today Granger?” he asked sliding down next to her at the head table for breakfast. He had broken out one of his bow ties for the occasion, blue with black pinstripes, making it very clear the team he would be cheering on. Granger on the other hand barely had any red on. She donned a Gryffindor scarf and a grey sweater. And what might have been a shapely pencil skirt... He’d maybe have to investigate more once she stood up. If he were interested in that type of thing.

She looked up surprised from her oatmeal and smiled. She actually smiled at him. He could see the Prophet headlines now: WAR HEROINE SMILES ACROSS TABLE AT ARCH-NEMESIS AND EX-DEATH EATER. “Good morning to you too Malfoy. To be honest, I have no idea whether we’ll win today, and frankly I don’t care. I’m just going to support my house. And will be proud win or lose.”

Although he expected this, he played along, “Really Granger? You of all people are okay with losing?”

“With something as silly as Quidditch, yes. I’ve never understood the obsession. Harry and Ronald tried very hard for a very long time to get me to enjoy it… Even Ginny playing professionally hasn’t converted me…”

Without thinking he cut her off, “Well maybe you just haven’t had the right watching companion.” 

There it was, he’d done it. He should just shove a pancake in his mouth to stop from popping off more unneeded commentary and leave the Great Hall. How had Blaise gotten in his head so quickly? He’d probably need to run soon, as she would likely start yelling.

But she surprised him. “That’s actually pretty likely. I don’t know many of the rules. I mostly read during our Hogwarts years when I wasn’t worrying over one of them dying during a game. They just assumed I always knew what was going on when in reality I know none of the strategy involved. I read Quidditch Through the Ages, but it wasn’t exactly my favorite tome.” she said with a small smile, but she also sounded exasperated. 

“That’s why you don’t like it,” he forged on. Apparently his brain was set on proving himself to the witch today. Damn you, Zabini. “If you understood the strategy and subtleties I think you might enjoy it. It might also win you some points with your students if you weren’t constantly knitting during games.”

“Oh Blaise told you about that did he?” He had really put his wand in his mouth now. Zabini would not be pleased. “Don’t look so surprised, I know he watches me. When one of Britain’s most eligible wizards comes to Hogwarts to teach at a young age you pay attention. I watch him almost as much as he watches me. I’m observant you know.”

“Oh I know Granger, I know that you know everything.”

“No, I don’t know everything. That’s why I’m here. To learn more; from my research, from my students, and from my colleagues. If I knew everything I would retire to a cottage with my books and get a cat and call it a day.” She stared at her oatmeal. It seemed he had killed some of the momentum he had. “I know everyone thinks I’m a know-it-all - thanks a lot Snape - but I really do thirst for knowledge. I’m not the genius everyone makes me out to be.”

Draco had to think about what to say. Hadn’t he just accused her of arrogance? Isn’t that why he had been avoiding her? This was the first time he’d experienced humility first hand from any of the Golden Trio, and to be honest he completely understood where she was coming from. He had the same motivations, with the addition of proving everyone wrong and re-claiming his name post-war. 

“Granger, I would genuinely like to sit with you at the match today. And before you protest,” he added with his finger in front of her face, “I mean it. I think we should get to know each other more. That, and as the younger faculty we need to stick together.” This was probably the first time in his life that repeating Blaise Zabini was beneficial. “Longbottom is stuck with detention duty, and Blaise will be on the pitch. We’re practically required to sit together.” Now that he thought about it, Neville not being there was quite convenient...

“Alright Malfoy. I would appreciate joining you. I need more conversation in my life right now. Are you ready to walk down?”

That was easy...too easy. Draco nodded and stood, pulling out Granger’s chair. She probably hated it, but it was physically ingrained in him. His mother would be proud, but also probably start asking too many questions. 

And yes, her black, knee-length pencil skirt was quite shapely. He felt sorry for the fourth year and up boys unsuspectingly eating breakfast right now.

\---------------

“Oh, well that makes sense,” she said with a nod. Hermione was shocked. She was enjoying a Quidditch game. Excuse me, match, a Quidditch match.

Draco pressed on excitedly, “Yeah, so that clears Mathers up for…” 

“GRYFFINDOR SCORES!” blared Collins, this year’s announcer. Hermione cheered loudly with about half of the crowd. That’s when she noticed Filius giving her a knowing look. Minerva smiled as well, too obviously looking at the pitch. 

“That,” said Malfoy with a smile.

“Malfoy, I’m impressed,” she said as genuinely as possible. “I’m enjoying this very much, I love all the strategy.” 

He smirked at her and turned back to the game. There was a 40-47.4% chance he was holding back a snarky comment about Harry and Ron. He had gotten one out towards the beginning of the match, something about Ron being too dense to understand the effectiveness of a feint, but had kept most of his comments to the game from then on. 

The adult version of his smirk was weird for her. It reminded her of the boy she had known third year, as the famous smirk had steadily decreased in frequency by the end of fourth year. But it was playful now, not mean. She hated admitting it, but it suited him. He looked nice, inviting even with that smirk. He was not thirteen anymore, he was an adult, just like she was. Supposedly.

He leaned in after a moment. “Don’t look now, but the Headmistress seems pleased with herself,” he whispered in her ear. She immediately understood why this was a tactic used in romance novels, and although there was no spine shiver that occured, she smiled and did not pull away.

Hermione turned slightly to look over Malfoy’s shoulder. She wanted Minerva to know they had seen her. Minerva kept smiling at her while maintaining eye contact, and Hermione was fairly certain her eyes were sparkling again. Damn.

“I know,” she replied out of the side of her mouth. “She likes to keep an eye on me. She was a bit of mentor when I was in school, and I’ve always wanted to be like her. Maybe minus the animagus part. Our stories thus far are miraculously similar.”

“Well if it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me,” he said patting her opposite shoulder. When did he get his arm over there? When had they gotten to sitting this close? She realized it had happened early in the match. The pitch was loud and since he was explaining things to her, they needed to sit close so she could hear him and ask questions when needed. And of course they were needed. Questions were always needed. 

Draco stuck his finger towards the pitch, pulling her out of her thoughts. “There’s the snitch. I think Smith sees it.”

Following his pointer finger to the field, Hermione couldn’t see anything. Maybe it was because she was temporarily blinded by his gilded, gold family ring. But she was fairly convinced he was pulling her leg. But then Smith took off. Dammit, right again. 

Then Draco did what seemed to be his new favorite thing - he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I’ll bet you that Reid beats Smith to the snitch and Ravenclaw pulls this one out. Have enough faith in your House, Granger?” 

Okay, this time she was fighting off the shiver. Her name rolled off his tongue so nicely. Was he flirting with her? Probably not, this must just be how he interacts with the female sex. Her calculations told her that was 38% accurate, or was it 67%? More data was need to figure out the other variables. For the love of Merlin, her p-values were going to be close to .1 at this rate. 

“You’re on Malfoy. I can’t bet against my own house. Loser buys lunch at the Three Broomsticks next Saturday?” If she was going to do it, she obviously had to up the ante. 

“Oh, Granger. Don’t you know I have expensive tastes?” he tutted. 

Both the young girls were racing towards the snitch at full speed now. Zabini following them with his eyes and slowly on his broom to make sure nothing bad happened. All the other players were almost at a stand-still waiting to see what would happen. That’s when she saw it, the Ravenclaw beater wound up. Hermione gasped right before the player struck a bludger, and Draco quickly turned to her to make sure she was alright. 

“Oh, no. Smith needs to move fast,” she said covering her eyes, not wanting to see any broken bones.

“Don’t worry, she’s got this. Hermione open your eyes.”

Wait -- Hermione? Just as she opened them to look at Malfoy, the crowd exploded. She immediately stood to look to see which of the young women had caught the snitch. 

“Looks like lunch is on me next week Granger,” Malfoy whispered to her, placing his arm on her shoulder as he did so, giving her what was likely the most awkward and simultaneously best hugs she had experienced in a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the Kudos and lovely comments! Let's see how Hermione and Draco are doing, and we go to Hogsmeade for the first time this year!
> 
> Many thanks to Belisama for beta-ing this chapter and for a wonderful *GIRLS NIGHT* this past weekend ;)

He had been wrong. Oh he had been so wrong. So wrong in fact, that he was currently storming to Professor Granger's office. 

Once he arrived across the castle on the third floor he was seeing red. How did she hide her arrogance so well? It appeared that she could wear it just as well as that god-forsaken pencil skirt. And other times, like now, it was the ugliest he had ever seen. Worse than the bogart version of Severus that Longbottom had conjured up third year. 

He stormed through the classroom door and made it quickly to the office. Draco banged on the door, demanding an audience with the ruddy Gryffindor. 

“Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist,” mumbled Granger as she opened the door. “It's not my office hours so this better be important… Oh, Draco, can I help you with something?”

Wait -- Draco? “Don’t Draco me, Granger. Did you take points from Simmons today?”

She mumbled something along the lines of ‘fudging rumor mill’ before addressing him, “Why yes, Professor Malfoy I did. What I'm confused about is why you are dressing me down for it.”

“Because you're being biased, and unfair.”

“Excuse me?” she said with the spark igniting behind her chocolate brown eyes.

“You’re excused, as long as you admit to the bias and also punish the student from your house that was involved.”

He braced for impact. The explosion would probably try to knock him back to the hallway. He was mentally ready to cast a wandless shield, you know, just in case. He didn't know for a fact if she could cast wandlessly, but he was willing to wager half his inheritance that she could, and that she could do it well. But there was no explosion, there was only a condescending eye roll.

“Malfoy, if you're going to make it here as a teacher, you'll need to learn to ignore the student gossip, or at least ask questions before storming across the bloody castle to be an arse to your colleagues…”

“I'm glad to see my initial assessment wasn't wrong. What's that new black robe made out of? Pure arrogance? Or is it essence of swot?”

“Malfoy, if you had bothered to ask me, or Mr. Filch, you would know that McBlair is also serving detention and had the same amount of points taken. Simmons ‘accidentally’ incinerated her essay and so she retaliated by giving him some nasty boils. I’m sure Simmons forgot to mention that in his retelling, am I correct?”

Draco was stunned. “He claimed it was unwarranted and she wasn't punished.”

“That's because he always tries to play it cool but in actuality is head over heels for her. I expect him to ask her to the Halloween Ball. I hope she says no. And no, my robe is actually made of all the numbers from my students’ homework that I've bent to my will.”

All he could do was cackle. She was quick, he’d give her that. It had been a long day; he had overheard Simmons complaining after dinner and overreacted. He took a deep breath finally, “Granger,er, Hermione, I'm sorry it's... it's been a long day.”

She sighed, but smiled minutely. “Same here. Would you like a cuppa? I just put the kettle on.”

“I don't deserve it, but that would be fantastic.”

\---------------

He was sitting in her quarters. Neville was the only other person, well besides Minerva, who came in here. And both previously mentioned friends had standing tea appointments. She wasn't sure quite how she felt about it. He would probably make some stupid remark about her quarters being drab.

Hermione was more than happy with her rooms. She was within shouting distance of Gryffindor tower, and they connected to her office in the off chance that she needed a nap or overslept. Or Peeves decided to pick on her.

They were cozy, with a couch and two wingback chairs in front of the fireplace to the left of the entrance. On the opposite side was a small kitchenette and table. The far left wall held a desk, flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on either side. These held all her “read for fun” books, while the academic ones lived a few steps away in her office. 

“You take your tea with two spoons of sugar, right Malfoy?” she guessed confidently.

“Yeah... how did you know?”

“You've always had a sweet tooth since we were at Hogwarts. I had a 96% chance of being right. And it helps the medicine go down extra well, obviously.” She smirked with the thought of how confused he must be. 

He called her a show off under his breath and took a long drink of his tea. How he liked it that sweet was a mystery to her. She would never tell him, but she hadn't needed the calculation on this one. She had just watched him make tea every morning at the head table.

“You like milk in yours, I just don’t know how much,” he laughed at her astonished look. “I pay attention too Granger. I just don’t have magical statistics to help me predict the future, so I’m not always right.”

“Hermione. We’re colleagues, I think you can call me Hermione.” And without thinking, she let another comment slip, “And it will remind me less of our Hogwarts days.”

She heard him take a long deep breath. He had been looking into the fire from the forest green chair - of course he had sat in the green one - but now he was staring at her inquisitively. She almost thought there was something on her face. 

“Look Gran-- Hermione.” It looked as if it was physically difficult, or causing him pain to say her name. “I don’t think that I will ever be able to apologize enough for what I did as a child. I was a tosser, or wanker if you prefer, but I have changed. I know every reformed Death Eater says that, but PD wouldn’t have let me work with him, let alone finish, if I hadn’t grown up,” he trailed off looking back to the fire. 

“It’s okay Draco, we weren’t exactly angels either. But I think we can start trying to get along at the very least. Afterall, we do have to chaperone together tomorrow.” She looked at his introspection, and actually believed his remorse. 78% of the time he was still an arse when he wanted to be (observed statistic this time) but she was willing to get to know him. He was sharp. “These chairs and tea generally lead to gossip and or bitching about your day when I have guests, so spill. Why was your day terrible?”

Evidently, the second years had been terrors in DADA, not just on the grounds as she had witnessed this week. Probably due to the fact they would not be headed to the village tomorrow. Hermione’s issue had surprisingly been her sixth years - something about stealing dates to Hogsmeade tomorrow. Load of rubbish if you asked her.

They carried on like this for a while, letting the fire dim, providing what could only be described as “mood lighting.” Was there really no better way to describe it? Apparently not - Hermione had always assumed romance writers were just lazy, but that seemed to be false. The conversation jumped all over the place, from the Ministry to Chaucer by the end of their conversation. She found that when Malfoy finally left her chambers she was looking forward to chatting more with him tomorrow. Maybe Hogsmeade wouldn’t be that bad. 

\---------------

It was that bad. Blaise had warned him that the first Hogsmeade trip was always a rough one, but had he listened? No. He was with Granger, swot and disciplinarian extraordinare, surely the students would listen to her. Nope. They were hormonal teenagers who had been cooped up on the Hogwarts grounds for too long. By the time they finally made it to the Three Broomsticks at quarter past three, they had found thirteen couples snogging, broken up four duels, and had sent seventeen students back to the castle. 

Plopping into her seat with a thump, Hermione waved Rosmerta over. 

“Butterbeer please,” she said exasperated.

“Make that two, and two lunch specials as well please.” He added quickly.

As Rosmerta retreated to the bar, he heard a dejected groan and was surprised by the loud thump that followed. Turning back to the table, Hermione’s face was squarely planted where her plate would soon be. 

Attempting to lighten the mood he spoke up, “Is it always this bad?”

“No,” she replied with another groan. Did she always make this many noises? “I ran the numbers last night, this option only came with a 12% likelihood. My over under on the number of students being sent back was five. The numbers hate me right now. Better yet, I think the Gods or Merlin hates me right now.”

“Has this happened before?”

“No. Normally I’m right on track. I’m beginning to think I’m losing it…” she finished. Now she just looked sad. Maybe a change in subject was due.

“It’s decided then, we’ll stop by Honeyduke’s on our way back. I know you’re busy with whatever project you currently have, but I’ve decided.” Sweets always made him feel better, maybe the same principle applied here. But he let his curiosity get the better of him. “What is the project you’re working on now anyways?”

“Whatever you say Malfoy,” she sighed, breathily. Was she trying to bankrupt him now? She sounded like a kitten, an adorable, fluffy little kitten. He would have to buy her whatever she wanted from Honeyduke’s now.

Apparently she had ignored his question, “Here’s something that should get you going… what’s the project that you’re working on?”

“Ah, that. It’s been slow going, but I’m working on predicting which families are going to have squibs and which muggle families are going to have magical children so tha….”

“So that you can find them early and prepare their families,” he finished for her quickly. “Granger, that’s brilliant. How do you do it?” He had so many questions. He felt like...well he felt like the curly-headed witch sitting across the table from him.

“Like I said, it’s not going super well right now. I’m trying to use a combination of matrices, detection charms, and muggle genetics. I’m not sure anyone has tried to combine all of them before, and I don’t blame them. I don’t exactly have a ton of bibliographic material to work off of either. So far I’ve identified a grand total of two children. One’s family was very aware of the fact that they were a squib, and the second got their Hogwarts letter a week after I identified them… did make my visit a lot easier though.” She looked a little dejected, but he could see the gears turning. Perhaps they just needed some extra grease. After all, the light was still lit in her eyes behind the disappointment. This girl - woman - had literally never given up on anything in her life.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Even though none of those sound like my area of expertise, please let me know if I can assist in anyway.” He genuinely wanted to. And the genuine smile he received in return was worth it. That, and everyone would know about this project if she figured it out. Even though it required much less than it used to, his ego still needed the occasional stroking. Like when her face lit up after he handed her a sugar quill while walking back towards the castle. Obviously they were her favorite. She always had one nearby in class and at the library when they were in school. He hadn’t grown up staring at her sucking on them...definitely not…

“Thank you Draco. I’ve had an absolute shit day, but it definitely would have been worse if McGonagall had actually stuck me with Zabini,” she said with a wry smile.

“Thanks for setting the bar extremely low Granger,” he said rolling his eyes. They were finally to the main entrance and ready to head into the Great Hall for dinner. But to his confusion...and apparent disappointment… she turned towards the staircase.

“I’m afraid I’m still full from our lunch,” she professed using air quotes. “I’m going to retire to my chambers with a book for the evening. But I’ll see you at breakfast?”

“Definitely.”

He turned to enter the Great Hall and shake out the fog in his brain. He needed to be sharp for Zabini’s ninety-nine questions he was about to endure.

“Oh, Draco?” Hermione called through said fog. “Would you like to start joining me for tea? I’d say that we warrant a regular tea now that we made it through today’s hell.”

“I’d like that Gra-- Hermione.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter plays with time, flashbacks, and perspectives. And we're going to get pretty flirty :) Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks as always Belisama for beta-ing and for brainstorming with me!

“HOW DID YOU NOT SNOG HER?!?” screamed Zabini from the black leather couch. 

Draco cringed, the firewhiskey from last night was still wreaking havoc on his frontal cortex.

“Blaise...I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But, Dra-”

“Look, I can barely call her by her first name yet, and I just apologized for being the biggest tosser this side of London for the majority of our lives about three weeks ago. Oh, and I forgot to mention, I don’t know if I want to snog her… I’m not even sure we’re friends really...”

“Oh, you want to snog her. I know you too well for that dragon shit. Even if you disappeared to France for four years, I still know you better than anyone else on this bloody planet. Maybe besides your Mother. But that woman literally knows everything about everyone…”

“Not Granger, which she reminds me of on a somewhat regular basis now, thanks to you. If I have to keep ironically thanking you, we’re going to have a problem.”

“What?! I thought she knew about her. You hadn’t told her Granger was working here? Isn’t your father on the Board of Governors?”

 

Draco chuckled, “In name only. He gives them money but he never goes to any meetings and doesn’t have a say in how the money is used. I’m glad his ruse is working.”

Blaise sighed and stared him down. His gaze felt uncomfortable. Draco avoided it like he did grading first year essays.

After sipping tea for few more minutes, Blaise finally broke his stare and the silence. “Will you at least tell me what happened?” he asked gently. Draco wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard him sound this serious or concerned. Apparently a look at his own priorities and actions was in order.

“Well… the ball was Friday - you know that, you were actively ditching it in London…”

~~~~~~~~~~

Flitwick and Hagrid had outdone themselves. Halloween is not a romantic holiday, but apparently they wanted it to be. The decorations said spooky, but also let’s go find an alcove to snog. If they had had anything like this while he was at school Draco might have enjoyed his time more. There also probably would have been a baby or two coming from the seventh years. This didn’t bode well for rounds and keeping students in line. As someone who had attempted to spike the punch on multiple occasions, Draco was not looking forward to the rest of the evening. 

Blaise had somehow gotten out of it. How he had convinced McGonagall that he needed to be in London for the Halloween weekend, which also fell on a full moon, was beyond him. Some weird shit was going to happen tonight, and he didn’t have any back up from his best friend.

Neville Longbottom had somehow talked the lovely and very normal Hannah Abbott into dating him, and she was still with him three years later. Since Minerva understood the importance of keeping her younger staff happy, she allowed for partners, significant others, and loved ones to visit the castle, and actively encouraged it on holidays if they didn’t already reside in the castle. That meant he was going to be making puppy eyes all night, and would be very unhelpful. 

That left Granger. That left the young woman who he used to hate, but currently wanted to snog, in secret, in the astronomy tower until the sun came up. Well...maybe not the astronomy tower, maybe under a tree on the grounds. The tower probably held too much baggage for both of them. It was complicated...clearly. 

He was looking forward to seeing whether his formal robes had the same effect on her as most other witches, or if they had one at all. Every warm blooded witch that didn’t play for the other team generally tripped over themselves to touch him, strip him of them, or waltz with him (if it was that type of gathering). However, knowing Granger, odds were probably 2 in 3 that she would be immune. They were becoming fast friends, but all signs pointed to it staying platonic. Which was fine, but obviously there was a lot of potential to make his life significantly better.

He wanted to know what she was going to wear. She had looked like an angel fourth year, even he would willingly admit that it was the best he had ever seen her. His biggest source of anger and self-loathing for that year was having to watch her smile up at and dance around with the muscle-y Bulgarian all night. At least his English was pretty bad, so he surmised they didn’t actually talk all that much. Pink and purple looked great on her, but he was betting that she would show up in her House colors for this one. He legitimately had five galleons on it with Blaise. Thank Merlin it wasn’t a costume gathering. He didn’t particularly enjoy the whole concept, and was glad to converse and dance with his colleagues sans glamours, wigs, or ridiculous outfits. 

A quick, and somewhat sarcastic, “Hey stranger,” pulled him out out of his musings from his post just inside the Hall doors. Time to win his five galleons.

Nope, he would be paying, and he was absolutely fine with that. He took it all back, Granger did look like an angel fourth year, but not her best. Right now, standing next to him, she looked like a goddess. A Slytherin goddess. She had taken a wardrobe cue from her mentor and was draped in a heavenly emerald green, velvet gown. The front was a very conservative, featuring a high neck, that seemed to button in the back, adorned with more onyx taking the place of a necklace. The sleeves stopped a little below the elbow. Her hair was half pulled back with an onyx hair comb, matching the stacked bracelets on her right wrist, and teardrop earrings again in onyx. 

When Hermione turned to look at the decorations, he almost whistled out loud. Her somewhat tamed curls flowed down her back, but most of her skin was exposed by an exquisite keyhole cut. And boy, that was a low cut, he could see the dimples on her back quite clearly. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, but the urge to banter with her quickly overtook that. It also helped distract him from the growing tightness in his groin. Luckily, formal robes were spacious and provided some coverage. He really hoped, for their sakes, that the male student population kept their attention to their dates. This dress was already burned into his brain permanently, and he had no idea how a horny fifteen year old would be able to forget it any time soon.

“Granger, I’m impressed. Also surprised. Have you not been smite down for wearing the enemy house’s colors?” 

“Very funny. It’s nice to see you too Draco. You look very sharp.” She was looking him up and down. Good, she wasn’t immune. That might be good to know later this evening. “How many months of our current salary are those robes worth?” 

“A lot. But I am embarrassed to admit I don’t know the exact answer to that question. My family has a tab open at Madame Malkins and I just send an owl when I need a new set.” Smooth, Draco, you sound like the spoiled brat from yester-year.

“Why am I not surprised,” she said, laughing quietly. “Did you see we’re on the last set of rounds and chaperone schedule tonight?”

Draco groaned. This was going to be a long night, especially if he would have viewing access to her shapely figure and lovely back. “Yes. I did. I suspect Minerva is meddling more than anyone would like to admit. I think she’s trying to suck me in via friendship.”

“I’m going to pretend that wasn’t a knock on me. But it’s not the worst thing in the world. I’ve never seen you smile this much. Ever. Neither has Blaise. He said so at breakfast the other day,” she trailed off. There was a somewhat awkward silence, and then she continued, “At the very least I have cushioned my shoes so I’m ready for the long haul this evening.”

Oh, now he was picturing how great her legs would look in black pumps. Lovely.

“Good,” he said with a smile, sneaking a look down and to his left at her, he’d have to investigate the shoe scenario later. She was smiling back, shyly. He decided to change the subject, “I’m guessing besides Minerva, you’re going to be the best dancer here so I’m going to make you promise me at least three dances.”

“Neville might surprise you. He really worked hard fourth year to learn everything. And Hannah loves to dance.”

“He’s not really my type, I’d prefer a lady in a fetching green and black dress.”

“Why, Mr. Malfoy,” she said in a mockingly haughty and scandalized voice putting her hand over her chest daintily. “Are you trying to seduce me?” 

Well that was bold. She might be covered in green, but her gold and red were showing. He had to respond accordingly. 

He leaned in really close to her ear, facing the stone wall behind them. There was no need for anyone to try to figure out what he was saying, “I’m not sure Granger, that depends on whether you’d say yes.” Although he didn’t show it, he felt like the last leaf hanging by a thread to the Whomping Willow in the Fall. So that he could keep hiding that fact, he shot Granger his best ‘come and get it’ smirk and walked briskly towards the dessert table.

~~~~~~~~~~

“He said WHAT?” spewed out Neville along with about half a mouth of tea. 

Hermione groaned, and quickly cast a scourgify for her rug. “He basically asked if I wanted him to seduce me.”

“Yeah, that’s bold, even for him. But I guess you started it.”

“I did…” Hermione said somewhere between another groan and a sigh. She covered her face with her hands and fell back against her chair, trying desperately to borrow away from her problems. She had already barricaded herself in here for most of the weekend. This was too complicated. Why did Malfoy have to come in to her safe place and mess things up? She was perfectly happy and doing well, and more importantly the numbers were working for her, not lying to her, before he showed up. 

Neville had arrived at her door promptly for his regularly scheduled Sunday tea, dying to know what had happened, but was too polite to outright ask her. At least until she had put a cup of tea in his hands. 

“Hermione, what happened next? That can’t have been all of it, you’ve both been hiding all weekend.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She was stunned. She was also glad to be wearing thick velvet because that meant her nipples weren’t showing through her dress as they were quite hard due to the shiver Draco’s breath had caused to shoot down her spine. Distraction was in order, maybe she’d go talk to Minerva.

Talking to Minerva was not a great choice.

The fourth through ninth sentences out of her mouth were, “Look at how nice Mr. Malfoy looks. Granted I’m sure those robes are all elven fabric. And they’re clearly custom. You don’t look too bad yourself lass. I must say, I approve of the dress, but it is quite risque. Something I would have worn in my youth,” she finished with a wink.

She had attempted to move to Neville and Hannah after that, and it hadn’t gone much better. She felt like she was watching Ginny and Harry get together all over again. She was hoping Neville would actually get down on one knee at Christmas this year like he had planned on doing last year before chickening out. 

“Well I’m glad the tavern is doing well, Hannah. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get some punch.”

The students seemed to be having a blast, some new band was playing. They called themselves ‘Harry and the Potters.’ If you asked Hermione and Ginny it was a hilarious name, and really helped them get a lot of fans. If you asked Harry, he kind of hated it. She hadn’t had to stop anyone from spiking the punch yet, and there was a minimal amount of snogging. Hopefully that bode well for rounds later. 

Walking up to the dessert table, she picked up a small chocolate truffle in the shape of a pumpkin and popped it in her mouth. Oh that was delicious. One of the unexpected new foods from the wizarding world had been pumpkin juice, and she had fallen in love with it. The chocolate burst as she chewed, and she was enjoying the pleasant taste of the elve’s fresh juice. She went to ladle some punch when a hand grabbed hers.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you Granger,” said a low voice from behind her. That explained why her back had quickly become warm... “I just caught Simmons spiking the punch. I’m waiting here for the elves to replace it.”

“Ever the killjoy Professor Malfoy,” she said with a giggle. “Once the elves replace it, how about that dance?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well was she at least a good dancer?” said Blaise in a bored tone. “All I’ve gotten so far is that you were flirting like a pair of sixth years. How blue were your balls when you finally got back to your rooms?”

~~~~~~~~~~

He must have been dreaming. He was floating around the dance floor with Hermione, foxtrotting the night away. They had also done a little waltz and some tango. Tango had been a little rough on his nether regions though, so he avoided it after the first go. His right hand had been entirely in contact with her lower back, finding only skin because of the cut of the dress. Not to mention the flicks they had done involved significantly too much thigh contact for a public area, let alone a public area filled with their students. He wasn’t quite sure how long they had been dancing, but at the end of the current song they moved towards the refreshments for a drink. 

She took a sip of the punch and promptly grimaced. “Yup, that’s firewhiskey.”

He downed his. “I concur. Too strong for your taste, Granger?”

“Hermione,” she said annoyed, “You call me Granger 87% of the time, and that is too much. I’ll settle for 50% for now. But no, I prefer my whiskey straight. Not watered down or masked with juice.”

“Well, I have a significantly nicer bottle in my room, so after we kick the students out in twenty minutes and complete our rounds, you are welcome to join me for a glass.” 

 

“I would like that,” she said with a smile. “Merlin knows I’ll need it. It’s been a long night, and I expect we’ll be separating many a couple in the halls tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“So then we kicked everyone out of the hall. You and Hannah had been gone for about an hour or so at this point. I think. I lost track of time.”

Neville laughed, “Oh, I know. I wanted to say goodnight, so did Hannah, but we decided not to disturb you.” He kept snickering into his tea, smug bastard.

“Oh, whatever. Anyways, we started rounds and ran into about five couples out and about. Mostly Hufflepuffs. Somehow they’re always the horny ones after events, I wish I had known that while we were in school... We then, apparently against my good judgement, went to Malfoy’s rooms for a night cap.”

“Hermione, in those funny movie-things we watch sometimes this is normally a good sign, what happened..?”

“Well…”

~~~~~~~~~~

He pulled down a bottle of Ogden’s finest. It was single barrel, and was aged in magical oak for fifteen years. They were children when it had begun being made. She was fairly sure she wouldn’t be able to afford a bottle of it even with her wartime reparations. She took a moment to admire not only his book collection, but his arse. It must be a crime for someone to look that good in dress robes. He was cheating slightly since they were custom made, but still. The Wizengamot wasn’t in session though, so they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

“See something you like, Granger?” he asked with a smirk. Damn those lips were perfect too.

Dagnabbit girl, think quickly. “Yeah, that whiskey looks amazing. But I was eyeing your Second Folio. How did you bloody well get your hands on that?” She really had been, his arse had just distracted her.

“Ah, that was a Christmas present from Mother a few years ago,” he said as he removed his outer robes to reveal a well fitted vest, pocket watch and all. His pocket square was white, matching his crisp bow tie. He loosened the tie with one hand, while reaching for a pair of glasses with the other. “I’ll let you read it if you’re careful. What’s your favorite play, A Winter’s Tale?”

“Ha. Very funny, but no. It’s obviously my mum’s favorite, but I prefer King Lear.”

“That’s dark Granger, not a comedy?”

“The comedies are just as dark as the tragedies, they just end in marriage.”

“Sounds like how my life might go.”

It was meant as witty banter, but it effectively stopped conversation. 

“Mine’s Hamlet by the way. I was just giving you a hard time. I would expect you to prefer a history though,” he said trying to politely correct the stoppage in conversation.

“Those are ghastly. So no.”

She whispered a thanks as she settled with her glass onto a black leather chaise. Looking around the room she noticed he was desperately trying to turn an older than Nicholas Flamel stone room into something modern. He was almost succeeding. There was sleek black leather on all the furniture arranged in front of the fire. A couch in the middle, flanked by one reading chair and one chaise provided a good amount of group seating, but also more variety than her rooms. She was curious about the empty frame above the fireplace, but assumed he likely was waiting on some priceless piece of abstract art from his mother to complete the ‘vibe’, or whatever. She thought that was an appropriate use of the word (it was “the” word with all the third years currently) but it’s very possible she was using it just like every other normal human being. Oh, well. His shelving had glass doors putting his alcohol, and rarer books on display for all to see, while saving them from unwanted touching. There were also a few small statues and a few brooms on the top shelf. She hadn’t thought Malfoy the sentimental type, but apparently there were some items that provided meaning and positive memories. She gratefully noticed that his book collection was almost as good as hers. 

“I’m impressed Malfoy, your rooms fit you well. They scream spoiled brat in the public eye, but is now too cool for all that and is teaching at a boarding school.” Breaking the ice seemed to be a good choice, it had a 90% chance for this interaction ending positively. Then she clearly saw one of the numbers from a few weeks ago -- 39.1% -- but what was it for?

“Oh come off it Granger, I think it suits me. At least it’s comfortable. I’m not going to apologize for style and good taste,” he laughed. 

“Sure Malfoy... Speaking of fashion, I’m finally suffering for my choices,” she said, kicking off her red-bottomed, black heels. Somehow without thinking of present company, because that’s literally the only thing she had been doing all night, she undid the two onyx buttons on the back of her neck. As a result, the heavily jeweled front fell forward to rest between her collar bones. Due to several sticking charms that’s all that happened, and her neck was now open to the cool air. She looked up at the loud exhale - Draco had stopped his glass right in front of his mouth pre-drink, probably trying to focus on something else. Hermione quickly realized what it looked like. And suddenly, a different percentage from earlier flashed through her mind. 

“Any guesses on what 98.7% or 39.1% might be for? I saw them a few weeks ago and had no idea what they were for, and just saw them again,” she said trying to distract from the sudden tension. 

“Well, if I were a betting man, which I am by the way -- you lost me five galleons to Zabini tonight -- I would say that 98.7% is the likelihood that I’m attracted to you. And 39.1% is that I’m going to kiss you before you leave.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“SO YOU COULD HAVE KISSED HER? Also -- that proves you did want to kiss her. If you didn’t, Granger’s percentage would have been much lower.” Zabini was raptured in the story now, ungrateful sod, he had just been complaining about how boring it was. 

“Zabini...if you had actually been listening, you would know that I never said I didn’t kiss her, I said ‘I didn’t want to talk about it.’”

“Okay lover boy, spill, what color were her knickers? And are they as practical as I think they are?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Turns out that telling a girl there’s roughly a 2 in 5 chance you’re going to kiss her while she’s sitting in your living room equivalent for the first time works pretty well. Not something he thought he’d ever say.

“Hmm. That definitely could be a possibility. Feeling lucky tonight Malfoy? We could test those statistics.” she said with that fire behind her eyes. 

“Yes, Granger, I am feeling quite lucky. I got paired with you again for something I am required to do, and you’re currently sitting in my living room with a delectable dress on. Which you just unbuttoned, I might add. I was not so secretly hoping there wouldn’t be sticking charms involved, but even I’m not used to girls just stripping on my chaise without any prompting.” he chuckled. It was true. Not that naked women hadn’t thrown themselves at him after the war, but now that was few and far between. “You haven’t even finished your whiskey,” he commented and the downed his.

She eyed him carefully, and followed suit. She would be a terrible poker player, her face was an open book, attraction and emotion were quite clearly on display. She shifted on the chaise making space next to her. 

He got up and walked as confidently as he could across the five feet of luxurious rug. He made sure to close the distance at an even pace. That gave her a chance to change her mind if she needed to. But she stared at him with the same determination that she had stared Snape down third year when he taught them about werewolves instead of whatever else was supposed to be taught that day. 

Leaning in, ghosting her lips with his, he whispered, “You sure about this Granger?”

“Just kiss me already…”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please,” she said without any breath behind it. 

That 39.1% - that was definitely not kissing. That was the chance he was going to be ripping that dress to shreds in his bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait...so let me get this straight… You both snogged each other’s brains out on his couch and then you left and hid from each other all weekend? What happened?”

“You really are not going to believe this Neville…”

~~~~~~~~~~

Bloody hell. Draco Malfoy, former Slytherin golden boy, and snotty teenager turned remorseful Death Eater, was giving her the snog of her life on his couch -- excuse me, chaise -- and she was loving it. She enjoyed a good snog, but it had really been a while. Oliver Wood had snogged her about two years ago at some banquet celebrating Quidditch over the years at Hogwarts. It had been awkward. Nice enough, but awkward.

Draco’s lips were soft, but firm, a big contradiction, that really doesn’t make any sense when said out loud or written down, but was still somehow accurate. Strong, smooth hands were making their way to the back of her neck, and she was slowly being lowered more on the chaise. He even was putting her head in the proper spot -- obviously he’s done this before. 

He also smelled amazing. Undoubtedly some custom mix made just for him in the Swiss Alps, or something equally ridiculous, but she was fairly certain there was lemongrass essence, musk, and some variety of mint. 

She was now very glad she had worn the dress. Significantly too daring for her normally, Ginny had tried to get her to wear it to the last Ministry function and she had refused. It had been a last minute decision to change the color from Burgundy to Emerald. Obviously it was working in her favor (there was a 69% chance that it would). And the low back was proving its worth, as he could get at so much of her skin without removing it. Did she want him to? His voice broke her from her thoughts.

“Granger, stop thinking. I can see you doing it. Unless you’re not enjoying yourself, and in that case we can stop, have another drink, and call it a night.”

“Oh no you don’t, I’m enjoying myself. My brain literally just doesn’t shut off...” she said very quickly. And the snogging commenced again at a more frantic pace. Her hands were in his hair, which felt as soft as what she imagined a unicorn tail would be, and then feeling his strong forearms, probably from Quidditch, or something manly. Maybe brooms weren’t too bad after all, -- ha, brooms, she’d have to remember that one for later. 

This was shaping up to be quite the night, and she was more than willing to let it continue, consequences be damned. They could talk about it later due to the fact she was now horizontal, and the less she thought right now the better.

But then, she heard a voice she hadn’t heard in a long time that sent the wrong type of chill down her spine. 

“Oh, well now this is interesting. Lovely to see you again Miss Granger, but I can’t say I was expecting it to be... under... these circumstances.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love and for all the kudos! And for hanging onto the cliff with me the last couple weeks, I hope you find the solution satisfying. 
> 
> Moving and classes starting made things go a little sideways, but hopefully with some more chapters written, I'll be more consistent. 
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta Belisama! You're the best my dear.

Hermione was not looking forward to breakfast this Monday morning; even if it was ‘French Toast Day.’ She had successfully avoided Malfoy all weekend, but for the third time in her life, she still had no idea what to say. This instance may take the cake as well. The first time was when she was eleven and Minerva was on her couch telling her that she was a witch, but she quickly recovered per usual. The second was when Harry bloody Potter got down on one knee in the middle of the Weasley’s living room right before she had started her mastery. Obviously, Ginny and Harry were going to get married, he had just caught her off guard by not telling her when he would do it. And now Draco fudging Malfoy was added to that list. 

As she tucked in to her pile of delightfully fluffy and eggy brioche, her coffee cup filled itself. Thank Merlin. She was going to need a lot of that this morning. She tried to ignore Minerva’s glare from down the table - probably for being incognito this weekend - and patiently waited for Neville to come in and sit next to her. Hopefully Blaise, let alone Malfoy, wouldn’t beat her friend to the apparently coveted seat next to her at the table. 

But none of the other young staff made their way in. Was she early? The Hall wasn’t very full in general. But then she heard the flutter of feathers. Ah, the mail was here, that meant everyone was just having a reluctant Monday morning, not just her.

As the mail arrived, so did Draco. Everything then happened very quickly, but also in slow motion. ‘Damn rom coms, how are you so cheesy but also accurate?’ she thought.

He made quick -- and was that hopeful? -- eye contact. Then eyed the seat next to her.

She looked away from his gaze, and then back. Yup, still looking at her.

A letter dropped in front of her face while she was still staring at him, distracted by an expertly chiseled jawline, and fell in her syrup. 

Neville sat down next to her, and said something -- probably good morning. 

Blaise caught up with Malfoy as they walked next to the Slytherin table. They were whispering about something.

She mumbled something like “Morning, bye” to Neville and jogged out of the Hall, letter in hand, making sure to keep towards the Gryffindor table, insuring neither Slytherin could reach her.

As she walk-ran down the hallway, she licked her fingers clean of the sticky substance and it reminded her of a pleasant yet terrifying dream she had had Saturday night after she left Malfoy’s. Who was she kidding, it was panty-drenching. But she was trying to forget it, and would possibly need to have Neville obliviate her. There had been a lot of abs involved, and in the dream version she wasn’t the one licking her fingers.

Once she made it to her classroom she ripped open the letter:

Dear Hermione,

I was thrilled to finally get your letter. I’ve been expecting it for some time. 

My visions are still crisp as a humdinger’s tail, so I’m sorry to hear that the numbers aren’t behaving. I’ll take some time to think about it over my tea today, maybe the leaves will give me some clues.

Although, I must say I did not see the end of your evening with Malfoy coming at all. It is an odd interior decorating choice to hang a portrait of one’s dead god father over one’s fireplace, even if Snape only spends half his time there. Given the less than fortunate timing, Draco might have an infestation of wrackspurts in his quarters, so I’ve included some Spectrespecs so that you two can work on removing them. It is an excellent team building exercise.

Why don’t we talk about this more in person? My perceptions and intuition are always better face to face. I’ll bring Ginny and we can have a girl’s day at the spa during your next Hogsmeade trip?

Love,

Luna

Hermione was glad that Luna had been a little more down to Earth after marrying Ron. She was still hard to understand at times, but she was better.

She reached down for a quill and piece of parchment to respond with a resounding “yes” to a girls’ outing.

\---------------

“Shit,” muttered Malfoy under his breath. 

“What, mate? Why do you look like you’re going to upchuck into your fruit bowl?” asked Blaise. 

Malfoy groaned, “Mother is coming to Hogsmeade for tea with me during the next weekend.” 

“She is? Oh you’re royally screwed my friend. I take it she didn’t ask or invite you to join? It’s just a statement?”

“Yeah. I’m done for.”

“What?” interjected a typically oblivious Longbottom. “I love having tea with Gran in Hogsmeade. Why are you worried?”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Because, Longbottom, my Mother normally settles for me visiting her. She only comes to me when she’s set on something, like my lack of a platinum blonde heir. That, or she has learned information I was deliberately not telling her,” he said. He sighed for dramatic effect - something he’d been good at since around the age of six. “She also prides herself on politeness. This is not a polite letter in her mind. She might literally disown me if I don’t meet her for tea.”

“Well that’s just confusing.”

“Tell me about it,” said both Draco and Blaise at the same time. 

Blaise pressed on, “Seriously Longbottom, you hit the jackpot not growing up like us. It was rough, and confusing, and exhausting. And be VERY glad you didn’t have to do Cotillion. It was…”

Draco couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to go back to his rooms and cool off before his first class of the day. 

First Snape interrupts his evening with Hermione, then she hides in her rooms all weekend, now Mother wanted to talk. That portrait frame was going in the trash if Severus had said anything to her. Forget decency. Hopefully this meeting was just going to be the usual, “when are we getting a grandchild or are you into men? You know there's always adoption...” tongue lashing. 

What he missed was Minerva’s knowing look as she reached for some parchment.

\---------------

Two weeks later the weather had gotten significantly colder. Any day now they would get the first dusting of snow. 

As Draco reached the end of the trail to Hogsmeade, he reflected on the last few days. 

He and Granger had finally started speaking at the table again. He had been forced to sit next to her last Saturday at dinner, as Blaise deliberately beat him to the table and left the only seat next to her. Bastard. They had had a pleasant conversation about the latest article in Charms Monthly, as they were both “massive squares” according to Zabini. 

After that it became a little easier, but gone was the playfulness from the Quidditch match and the Ball. Draco felt like he was walking on dragon scales, wanting to tread lightly without getting hurt himself. He actually missed their repartee. It kept his mind sharp, and allowed him to push her buttons. And flirt with her without her picking up on it too much. Now he wasn’t sure quite what to do. With her or his Mother. 

When he reached Madam Puddifoot's, he steeled himself and pushed in the door. 

“Draco, Darling,” she called to him, raising one finger in the air. Surely it sounded perfectly polite to anyone else, but Draco detected an edge to her voice that only he and his father knew.

Oh, boy. This was going to be a long afternoon.

\---------------

“No!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Yes, Gin.”

“Hermione, you’re telling me that Severus Snape, war hero, and dark and dingy potions master who made our lives miserable is still haunting you from the grave?”

“Yes. Snape always did have a reputation for catching couples in the hallways, apparently that continues in his life as a portrait.”

Ginny burst into a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry Herms... I really am. But that’s hilarious.”

“It’s really not.”

Luna floated into the conversation, “I think it’s sweet that Snape still talks with Draco. He’s quite changed since the war isn’t he?”

Hermione paused. Well, she had been spending an awful lot of time with him, and probably wouldn’t if he was the same kid from school. “Yeah, he really has. I actually enjoy talking to him...or at least I did. We haven’t been very chatty lately. Well...we’ve begun talking more again, but it’s just not the same.”

“His thankfulness seems genuine,” stated Luna. 

Hermione snorted, how did Luna do that? “Yeah I think so too.”

“Alright ladies, I know you can see everything, but help out the uninitiated - what is he thankful for?”

Hermione took a deep breath, “He thanked me -- and in extension Harry and Ron -- for saving him during the final battle when we were in the Room of Requirement.”

The room fell silent. Ginny clearly didn’t know what to say, and the subject of the war was still a bit of a sore one for her. Luna finally answered.

“I think that what we need most always comes when we least expect it.... Hermione, this really is a great chance for you to find a lot of things you are in need of: a brain, temper, and tongue to match yours…”

“I agree with Luna,” said Ginny. This was quite surprising to Hermione. She was expecting Gin to take the same hard line the boys did with Malfoy - not worth the time, doesn’t matter what he’s done since. “Hermione...when was the last time you dated someone? Was it Oliver Wood? You know he has a child on the way right? You’re in desperate need of some good company, and a good, filthy…”

“Let me stop you right there Gin. I know I need a good shag, details notwithstanding. But I’m not sure I need it from him.”

Ginny fired right back to Luna’s amusement, “Well then are you gonna shag Zabini? That’s really your only other option. Neville’s taken my dear, to your chagrin I’m sure.”

She groaned. Mostly because she knew they were both right (88% chance). Apparently she needed to talk to Malfoy more, and *try* to make a better effort. 

“Great,” said Luna. “Now that you’ve decided what you’re going to do, and our nails are finished… let’s get some butterbeer.”

\---------------

“Mother, for the last time…”

“You’re happy, yes, yes, we know…”

Draco grunted, “Actually I don’t think you do.” He cut her off again as she was about to scold him, “I’m sorry I interrupted you, but I don’t think that you or Father really understand. This is the first time I have genuinely been happy in a very, very long time. Let me be.”

Narcissa pursed her lips, and sighed. “I suppose I will give you that. If you didn’t want to see me…”

“You know I didn’t have a choice. And I love you, Mother. But please stop asking me about or attempting to set me up with ‘eligible’ witches.”

“Fine. Just tell me this, are you at least talking to the Granger girl? She seems to be your best option at this point…”

“Mother, don’t even start...wait...what?!” his gaze shot up from the cup and saucer he was playing with. 

His mother was smirking at him. This was not good, “Although your Father may still feel that you need to marry a socialite, I am under no false impression that that will be happening anytime soon. You might as well befriend, if not flirt with the smartest witch in England. She’s right under your nose. Really yours for the taking, as long as Blaise doesn’t beat you to her...”

Draco was shocked, but dared to not let his Mother see it. He steeled his expression and hesitantly asked, “Did Severus say something to you? Did he put you up to this?”

“What?” she looked very confused. “No...should he have? Why would you say that?”

“No reason, I just know that the painting at the Villa was recently finished and thought he had said something to prompt the visit.” That seemed somewhat believable at least.

His Mother looked down her nose at him as she picked up her scone and took a polite bite. 

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll drop it for now. But back to Miss Granger… maybe you should have her over for dinner?”

“Mother, you and I both know that’s a terrible idea. Need I remind you what your sister did?”

She sighed, “Of course not Dear. But the Potter boy has forgiven the family, and the fact that she speaks with you makes me think she has as well. Or at least that she can. It really would be lovely to see her, and…”

“I’ll think about it. How’s Father?” Draco finally succeeded in getting his Mother to move away from Granger. They discussed his parent’s plans to travel some in November, and what they would be doing in December. Apparently there were going to start hosting the Malfoy Holiday Ball again at the dance hall in Berlin in place of the Manor. They were getting the port keys together now. 

“So you must tell me if you want to bring a date my dear. It would be fitting for you to…”

“No Mother. I’ll attend, but I don’t plan on bringing a date.”

“This could be perfect for Miss Gran-”

“I said no Mother. I’m not putting her through that, you know how much press we would attract, nor are we that close.”

“Maybe you should be” she said with a level of snark he had not heard from her in a while. “Fine. I’ll leave this alone, but expect your Father to bother you about it at Christmas.”

“It wouldn’t be a family holiday if he didn’t try to set me up with someone now would it?” he said with a chuckle.

“That’s the spirit Draco. It was lovely to see you. Walk me to the apparation point?”

\---------------

“Hey Stranger.”

Startled by the voice, Hermione tripped over a stone on the path, and was caught by some nicely toned arms that most likely belonged to the platinum blonde “stranger” that had just tried to get her attention. Looking up she confirmed she was 100% right. 

“Hey. Thanks for that.”

“Well it did seem to be my fault, or are you as clumsy as you were in school?” he said with a smirk. He then handed her a sugar quill he had recently acquired.

It had been roughly 15 days since he last flirted with her and it seemed like that count was now 0. Finally.

“Regardless, thanks. How was your afternoon? Better than last time we were here I hope?” she asked with a genuine smile that she couldn’t hold back. 

He let out a large sigh, and handed her a sugar quill. “To be honest, not great. Slightly better than last time, but this time I had to sit and politely let my Mother nag me.”

Hermione flinched, sometimes she forgot he was heir to the largest fortune in Wizarding England. Even with the Malfoy’s stepping up their donations big time after the war and selling their manor, they were still practically gilded in gold. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay, I think I actually made some progress in getting them to butt out of my life some. What brought you here this week? Longbottom and Zabini had chaperone duty.”

She laughed thinking of bumping into Neville and Blaise having a time of it trying to corral the students earlier. “Luna and Ginny came to visit for a ‘girls afternoon.’ It was lovely to catch up and talk with them, but I did have to listen to them talk for quite a while about married life, not always my favorite topic.”

“Well it sounds overall positive, that’s good.” He paused. “Look Hermione…”

She didn’t want to have the conversation that had a 49% likelihood of starting right now, so she intervened.

“Why did you get me a quill?” she asked, genuinely wanting to know the answer while also, hopefully, throwing him off the scent of his original thought. 

“Because they’re your favorite. They have been since our years at Hogwarts. You never were in the library without them.”

She smiled - he had noticed. Not even Harry or Ron knew her favorite candy, they always thought it was chocolate frogs. Which she definitely did not mind, and still ate, but there was nothing like sucking on a sugar quill over a great book. “Thanks. Speaking of the library...I could use a little research help for my project. Still wanting to assist?” She quickly added, “Even if you don’t, if you want to start your own project, you can join me at a table. I always bring snacks.”

He looked at her like she was crazy, “Pince lets you bring food in?”

“Oh, heavens no. I just sneak it in.”

Draco lost it, throwing his head back with laughter. “Bare minimum I feel like I have to sit with you now just to watch you break the rules. If it weren’t for Scarhead and Weaslby I don’t expect you would have broken many when we were here. Let me know next time you’re planning on going. I’d love to join you Granger.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay new chapter! Since y'all were so patient for the last one, let's keep the story rolling! There's what I think is a funny bio-medical research joke in there that I'm pretty excited about too. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks Belisama for all the beta love :)

“Alright Zabini, let’s get this over with,” she said as she approached him as he leaned against the stone railing that elaborately built into beginning of the stairs. He was her rounds partner this evening and she wasn’t super pleased. But Minerva had just looked down at her over the half moon spectacles she wore while reading mail when Hermione had entered her office to complain. She had the common sense to just walk out without saying anything. 

He smirked at her and turned to climb the stairs, “Don’t sound so upset Granger. You’re acting like I’m Slughorn or something. At least I’m pretty to look at, and think I’m a good conversationalist.”

“Fair enough Zabini.”

He feigned a look of pain. “Please just call me Blaise. You and Draco are on a first name basis, and Neville and I are now too. We might as well join them.”

If you had told thirteen year old Hermione Granger that she would be teaching, and friendly, with two notorious Slytherins a few years after the war she would probably look at you funny and tell you that the chances of that happening were 1 in 19. But she had beat slimmer odds before.

“Okay Blaise. You can call me Hermione. How was your day?”

He groaned, “There was quite the argument over the pitch schedule this afternoon and one of my first years tried to steal my broom. So you know, I’d give it a 6 out of 10.”

“That’s not a bad number...”

“Well I get to spend my evening with you, so yes.” Damn he was quick. Apparently the silent treatment she had originally planned wasn’t going to work. 

As she looked at him dread dawned on her, he was wearing the infamous Slytherin smirk that said ‘you just got caught up in the secret plan that only I knew about and you can’t do anything about it now.’

“Draco mentioned that you were working in the Library this weekend. What is the project?” Well he just likes to get right to it...

She tried to reign in her ‘swot mode’ as Malfoy called it, “It’s just my personal pet project. I’m trying to write an equation to predict which families will have squibs or muggle-born children and when it’s going to happen so that we can reach them sooner.”

Blaise had stopped walking momentarily and tripped over a stone. That may be the first time she had seen him do anything remotely physical that didn’t exude suave. “Wow Hermione…That’s just...wow. That’s noble, and so necessary. How’s it going? Wait, and how is Draco helping?”

“It’s not going very well, I’ve basically had to re-start my research now that I’m back at Hogwarts and have regular access to a bigger collection than my home library. Draco’s helping me with research until he figures out what his Defense or Dark Arts based research project will be. A lot of people forget that he finished close behind me in school. He’s learning muggle genetics pretty quickly actually…” Hermione trailed off, realizing that a) she was rambling, and b) she was complimenting Draco. 

Blaise laughed, “Oh, trust me Granger, I remember. I had to hear all about him not beating you. He also regularly reminds me how smart he is when we talk or repartee or whatever you want to call it. I’m pretty sharp myself, or at least I think I am, I was just lazy in school.”

Thinking back that made sense. Hermione remembered Blaise mostly staying quiet in school, but when he did participate in ‘Make Fun of the Muggleborn’ sessions he was pretty good. One time in particular she remembered him using a Shakespearean insult on her, “I know. I remember when you quoted All’s Well that Ends Well to make fun of me one time. Pretty sure Draco and I were the only ones who got your reference. I don’t think Goyle read much of the Bard.”

“Touche, I think I was probably more of the ‘notable coward’ anyways. Also, since he’s helping you, please tell me you and Draco are finally back on good terms again?” Did he sound… excited?

Hermione tried to dampen down her blush - luckily she had her purple high-necked sweater on tonight. “Yes. We have been for a while...we just had a misunderstanding.”

“Granger...don’t worry about it. Snape still scares me too, I can’t imagine what I would…”

“Yes, thanks. Let’s not talk about that, it was a mistake,” she said somewhat bitterly. By now they were up to the third floor and moving quickly. Hopefully they weren’t missing anything by being involved in conversation. 

“Woah, woah, woah… Mistake? You two are about as smitten as a Ravenclaw seventh year is with the Restricted Section. Oh don’t give me that look,” apparently he had seen her face scrunch up, “I watch you two interact. You talked a lot at the last Quidditch match…”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff was always a good match, or so she was told. Even with her more nuanced understanding and enjoyment of the game, she had some Holiday gifts she really needed to get knitted. If she didn’t start now she would never finish.

“Is this seat taken?”

“Nope, it’s all yours Draco. Apparently Neville is visiting Hannah this weekend, so please sit.”

“Thanks, Gra-- Hermione. Do you know who’s supposed to win?”

“I think my students were saying Ravenclaw?”

“You’re right, of course. What are you knitting? A scarf? Wait… is this where Potter and Weasley got those ugly jumpers during school?”

She laughed, “No, Molly Weasley makes those. We get one every year. This is a hat for what I think will be the soon to be announced Potter child.”

“Ah, so that’s why it’s an awful combination of gold and scarlet. Add a little green, just for me?”

“Ha. Whatever you say.”

“Just playing Granger,” he said giving her a playful nudge on the arm. “Now,” he said rubbing his hands together, “let’s watch some Quidditch. You keep knitting, I’ll give the play-by-play.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t think I didn’t see you two flirting. He was giving you the full play-by-play. He talked the entire game,” said Blaise with a hint of playfulness. “And if I’m not mistaken, made you laugh for a good portion of it as well.”

“I wouldn’t call that flirting. He was just giving me the info so I could knit too. Also, shouldn’t you be watching the game, not us?”

“Yeah, that’s definitely why you walked back to the castle together, all the way up to your rooms, arm in arm. You do realize that’s something we learn to do right? At cotillion? How to court someone.” Apparently he was ignoring her question.

“Purebloods have cotillion?”

“Yes. Unfortunately. But that’s why we are excellent dancers. I’m sad I missed the Ball for the pure fact we didn’t get to dance. I heard you were excellent,” he said winking at her in an all too knowing manner. 

At that moment Hermione’s feet decided to remind them both that she was in fact a klutz by tripping up the stairs. 

“Yes, well, I just had a good lead.”

Blaise snickered. “Uh, huh.”

When they finally reached the Astronomy Tower they had to kick out some snogging seventh years. 

“And that’ll be 20 points. Each. 10 for being past curfew, and 10 for clothing being removed,” said Blaise sternly.

Once the students left, Blaise turned to look at her. “Hermione, I’m serious. You need to talk to Draco about what happened. You both have a weird ‘skirting around each other’ thing going. I have never seen him as happy as he was leading up to the Ball. I really think you should give him another chance.”

Hermione considered it. They had been doing well - they were to meet in the library again tomorrow. “We’ll see how it goes…”

“Not good enough,” he said tersely. “You said it was a ‘mistake’ earlier. It wasn’t. You need to get to know him better. You make him happy. Keep making him happy, Hermione, and I think you’ll find that you’re happier too. Have a good night.”

\---------------

He was very close to letting out a long, low whistle. Not only had she managed to sneak in tea and treats again, but she also had on what he thought Muggles referred to as ‘leggings’ with an off the shoulder sweatshirt. Apparently she was going more casual in the library today, and he thought he could get behind it. Especially if all her leggings were this tight. At least it was a Saturday morning, and only the students like her would be in the library. 

“I have to say Granger, I’m impressed --”

“Hermione.”

“Hermione, I’m impressed. How did you get past Pince?”

She giggled setting everything down and sliding him a chocolate wand. “She likes me so much that she pretty much ignores me at this point. As far as she knows, I’ve never broken any of her rules, unlike basically every other student.” 

He chuckled to himself, “Well I guess that’s why it pays to be the Gryffindor Princess.”

She rolled her eyes and went off to find the books she needed. Draco turned back to the genetics textbook, today was going to be about current research. He vaguely remembered Hermione talking about ‘crispy’? It seemed like an odd name to him, but who was he to question.

Once she returned with quite a large stack of tomes, she poured them both tea and they set to work. 

Somewhere around two hours later, Draco leaned back in his seat rubbing his eyes. He sighed deeply, “Tea me, Hermione.”

She laughed in what his Mother might call an “unladylike fashion,” but he found it extremely endearing that she was comfortable enough around him to let loose. She sent a cup over to him wandlessly, confirming his earlier suspicions. This witch was in another league. After sipping some of the comforting liquid, it dawned on him. 

“Granger… this tea is perfect… how did you do it?”

“Hermione… and I’m not the only observant one. You love sugar, we’ve been over this. I know what you like.”

He smirked and looked over at her, “Oh do you?”

She got a little haughty, and tilted her chin up, “Why, yes. I’m quite convinced that my Christmas present for you will knock your socks off.”

Did she say present? That couldn’t be… it’s not even that...oh no, yes it is. We’re getting close to Winter recess.

“Wait, Christmas present?”

She looked across the table at him like he had three heads. “Yes, of course.” Apparently this was an obvious development. That he wasn’t aware of. “I always get friends gifts during the holidays.”

“Oh, we’re friends now, Granger?” Draco said chuckling with my signature smirk. 

“Hermione, Draco,” she said emphasizing his name. “Yes. We’re friends. We’re sharing tea and you’re helping me do research. I’d say we’ve reached friend status,” she said with a wry smile. “You look tired. After you’re done with your tea, please go relax. I’m only going to read for an hour or so, then have other things to do.”

“Thanks Hermione. It’s been a good morning, and I’m glad I could help,” he said genuinely as he passed back her mug.

Trying to keep his composure, Draco left the library and then broke out into a sprint to Blaise’s quarters. 

\---------------

“Earth to Lover Boy,” said Blaise waving his hand in front of Draco’s face. “Why are we here? I know you said you ‘needed to get out of the castle, and do some Holiday shopping’ but why are we in a bookshop? Would it perhaps be for a certain bookworm we are now friends with?”

Sighing, Draco admitted defeat to ask for help, “Earlier at the library she mentioned in an extremely nonchalant way that she found the ‘perfect’ gift for me for Christmas. I wasn’t even planning on getting her anything, maybe some stationary. Now the pressure’s on. I have to find something good.” 

Blaise looked like he had just won the Quidditch World Cup, “Alright then, let’s find something that’s going to sweep her off her feet. Are we going sparkly, expensive, food-based, or books? Or all of the above?”

“She doesn’t regularly wear any jewelry. Except some small trinket Potter got her.” He chose to ignore Blaise’s mumbles of ‘Of course you know that.’ “And I don’t think she’d accept anything too expensive. She already has an extensive library, but I think finding her a couple rare texts would be great.”

“I agree. Let’s find something helpful for her research? And maybe just a show-y book she can brag about having.”

Draco smiled, “Yes. She lost it over my Second Folio when she was in my rooms…”

Blaise threw his head back laughing, “Of course she did. I’m sure your Mother would be happy to hear that a really old muggle book helped get Hermione partially in your pants.”

Suddenly the light bulb went on, “I think I know what I’m going to do. Let’s look in the rare editions section, and then we need to go to Muggle London for something. How much German do you know?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to Belisama for being a wonderful beta :)
> 
> Things are getting exciting again...and I think the end is in sight. Thanks to everyone for the wonderful comments and kudos it means a lot, even if I don't always respond right away.

Hermione obviously knew that Hogwarts was magical, but it felt like someone was using a time turner to skip ahead to the holiday season. All of a sudden it was late December. The students had just left, and tomorrow she would head to the Burrow for a few days to celebrate just like they all had been for years. Just now, they weren’t the children running around and getting bossed by Molly, it was  _ their _ children running around and getting smothered. 

Currently, she was looking for Draco to give him his gift. She was proud of her ingenuity and hoped it would help him in the classroom. He had complained a while back that although his students respected him, the third through fifth years were constantly trying to cheat during assessments and assignments. Hopefully, this would put a stop to that. 

She had even gone out of her way to wrap it in silver paper with a green bow. She smiled to herself knowing that the inside of the box was crimson. And the gift was gold, literally. Couldn’t let him get too big of a head about things.

Knocking on the door to his office, she began to feel like there was a snitch flying around in her stomach. Why was she nervous? It was just a gift exchanged between friends. But what if he didn’t like it? What if he hadn’t gotten her anything? Or what if, in true Malfoy style he got her something extravagant and her’s paled in comparison? 

No answer. Maybe he was in the library? Hopefully he hadn’t left already. 

She stood waiting in the classroom, thinking back on all the experiences she had in that very same room. She finally caved and pushed open the cracked door. But still no luck - no blonde professor to give her silver box too. 

Being crunched for time, she left the box on his desk, hoping that he would get it before he left. Turning back on her way out, she smiled, wishing him a happy holidays in her head. But now, she had to pack.

\---------------

He had been unsuccessful at catching Hermione before she left. She had not been in her office, or elsewhere on the grounds once he had returned from the train station in Hogsmeade. He had been held up giving MacAllister a piece of his mind about setting off fireworks in an attempt to impress a female student. 

Returning to his office in defeat, he collapsed into his desk chair, and took a deep breath. After rubbing his face, he went to grab a piece of parchment to send along with his gift. He would just have to have an owl or elf deliver it to the Burrow on Christmas Day. But something shiny distracted him. 

The small silver box with Slytherin green ribbon literally had his name on it. Flipping over the tag it said:  _ Open me when you find me. No need to wait till the 25th.  _ Draco didn’t need to be told twice. 

Taking care to unwrap without shredding, he carefully unfolded the paper then removed the lid of the box. Of course, Hermione wouldn’t let bygones be bygones, she had to include the little house rivalry. But he had to admit he was confused to see a snitch sitting on burgundy satin. He already had all the meaningful ones from his time at school. Picking it up, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but saw a note that must explain everything. Even her scrawl was perfect. 

_ Draco -- _

_I know you mentioned that some of your middle year students were giving you trouble. This snitch should help. When you tap it with your wand and say_ Capio Probo _it will hover around the room looking for cheaters. When it catches them it will circle around their heads, but also freeze their quills. If it’s not working let me know, I can fiddle with it more._

_After all_ _ , us young faculty have to stick together.  _

_ Happy Christmas,  _

_ Hermione _

Draco was about to melt onto the floor. Not only was this woman a genius, but she was extremely thoughtful. How she came up with this and executed it, he would have to know, it would bother him otherwise. Hopefully his gifts would hold up. He only regretted they had not been able to exchange in person. She had mentioned she was going to the Burrow and then to her parent's place, so it was unlikely that they would see each other until after break. 

\---------------

Hermione simultaneously wanted to beam with joy and sob with sadness. She adored being around all her friends and the little families they were building, but it made her so lonely. To the point where she might proposition Blaise Zabini when she returned to the castle. 

“Thinking of a certain blonde we both know?” said Ginny disrupting her thoughts as she slid onto the couch. One of the petite red heads, probably Fred, ran past at the same time with socks on his hands making some sort of monster noise, causing Hermione to laugh. 

“Actually, I was thinking of a different Slytherin, but I am hoping I hear from said blonde. I’m not sure if he got my gift or not.” 

Ginny smiled at her. “I’m sure he did. He’s probably just busy spending time with his Mother. I can’t wait to see what he got you,” she said in a giddy voice. “I think I’m going to win my bet with Harry. I said sparkly, and at least a month’s salary. He’s sticking with a book.” 

Hermione slapped Ginny’s upper arm. “Gin. Not funny. Who else is in on it?”

“Oh, nobody. We haven’t told anyone about you two.” 

Hermione sighed, “Good. And there isn’t ‘the two of us’. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” said Gin rolling her eyes, “that’s why you spent a month  _ creating _ a spell and then charming a snitch for him. What did you get Ron I wonder? Some chocolate? And Harry? Some broom polish?”

Damn her smug, fiery best female friend.

\---------------

Although a lie-in would have been ideal, small children did not mix well with staying safely snuggled under the covers. And Hermione had to admit, she was looking forward to opening gifts and then digging into the breakfast feast Molly was surely already slaving away on. 

After wandering down the stairs, Hermione was handed a much needed cup of tea in one hand and a mimosa in the other. Probably best to have some alcohol in the system for what was sure to be an hours long process full of shredded paper and knotted ribbons. It would also help her handle all of what would be assuredly disgusting displays of affection from all angles. The other lone unattached family member had abandoned her this year - Charlie claimed he had drawn the short straw for duty on the reserve, but she knew better. He and that new trainer on the reserve were spending a lot of quality, horizontal time together away from Molly's prying eyes. 

George and Bill took their yearly assignment of dolling out presents very seriously. Her pile began to accumulate slowly, but George caught on to one gift right away. 

“Wow, Hermione,” he said slightly too loudly for her liking, “This is some nice paper, and the box is huge. Is there a secret admirer in your life that Ginny hasn’t told us about? Oh here’s another one, also with fancy wrapping. Granger, you’re really getting...”   


She simply rolled her eyes, “Of course not. I have some lovely colleagues I bet.” Her intuition was confirmed. The small gold box was from Blaise, thank Merlin she had gotten him something as well, and the larger maroon box was from Draco. She prayed to Morgana that neither were anything too drastic. She had just gotten Blaise a pair of slytherin colored gloves meant for flying. 

As the opening commenced Hermione smiled at the lovely, if not predictable, gifts from her friends. A couple novels she had wanted from Molly, thankfully in place of yet another knitted piece of clothing, Weasley Wizarding Weezes pranks from George and Angelina,  some type of amulet from Luna, chocolates from Ron, and a really nice fountain pen from Harry. Ginny’s made her raise her eyebrows, thankfully it hadn’t made it’s way out of the box completely when she realized what it was. It had two ears, was rubber-y, and required batteries. Ginny had just winked. The note simply said:  _ When your blonde companion is on rounds and you’re getting lonely in that remote Scottish castle. _

Since the precise order of opening had broken down, and everyone was focused on their own gifts, not others', she figured it was safe to open the gifts from her new favorite Slytherin pair. Blaise had gotten her a thoughtful, self-filling pot of red ink. His note had mentioned something about making her students' homework bleed red, and not worrying about running out. This model of ink pot was not released to the open market yet - she had checked - and she was now wondering who he had bribed or slept with to get it. 

Finally she turned to Draco’s gift. Shiny maroon paper, with a gold ribbon held two fairly large boxes together. Upon opening, she found he had thought similar to her - silver and green met her on the inside. The first box contained a card on top in his familiarly elegant script. 

_ Hermione --  _

_ Thank you so much for your gift. It was so thoughtful and I cannot wait to put it to use. They won’t know what’s coming.  _

_ I went back and forth on these gifts, but settled on contributing to your love and pursuit of knowledge. I hope that these find you well, and I look forward to seeing you upon your return to the castle.  _

_ Draco _

Lifting the first book out of the box she instantly recognized a new genetic theory book, but alas it was in German. He knew she didn’t speak German, he had tried to converse with her in it. Opening it nonetheless, Hermione was immensely surprised and elated to see Draco’s personal touch. He had altered the book so that on the left was the original text, with a translation included on the opposite page. She had had a sinking suspicion that this book would be a potential breakthrough in her research, and now she wouldn’t have to make him sit and live translate to her.

Turning to the next box she was nervous. It was quite large. And he said that it was a book, so it was probably something she had no right having in her library.

Upon lifting the lid she found she was right. She let a loud gasp and a “Holy Merlin” escape her lips while she tried not to drop the box. Carefully she began to lift the book out.

“What is it Hermione?” questioned Harry with a smirk, while holding his hands out to his wife to get her to pay up. 

“Its...its...its…” Now Draco bloody Malfoy was on her list of speechless moments twice. Damn him.

Ron clamored to look over her shoulder. “Oh, come off it. It’s a copy of  _ Hogwarts a History _ . The bloody ferret really did well there, he got you your favorite book, which you already own. Real shocking… literally everyone you’ve ever met knows you’re obsessed.”

Hermione snapped her head around, “You don’t get it Ron. Yes, this is  _ Hogwarts, A History _ , but it’s a first edition. This is so rare. There are two _known_ copies, one of them is in a case in the Hogwarts library, the others were lost in London until the Nott family found a copy. This is a mix of Bagshot’s notes and a recreated copy of what is believed to be original Founders notes which she used to generate the book. I have NO idea how he talked Nott into parting with this, or Merlin-forbid he found _another_ copy, let alone how many years of our salary this would go for at auction.”

George was looking smug, “Like I said, admirer. He knows the direct path to our bookworm’s heart.”

Hermione blushed. She could not accept this. She needed to write him right away and give him a piece of her mind. Well, maybe after pancakes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update! I love this chapter and couldn't wait any longer to get it out there. 
> 
> Thanks to the lovely Belisama for her feedback and proof-reading. You're the best :)

_ Hermione, _

_ Please know that I am not under any duress, nor do I owe Theo anything for him helping me find that edition. Well, that’s not entirely true, but nothing you need to be worried about - he and I have been friends since before we could walk. I wanted to find you something special for your collection, like my Folio, and I knew it was your favorite.  _

_ And no, I’m not going to tell you a price. I just want you to read it, and tell me all about it the next time I see you. And find a special place on your bookshelf. _

_ I’m glad you had an enjoyable time and are relaxing with your parents now. I wish that I could say the same. I may end up returning to the castle early at this point, and trying to find a good research topic. I just have to hold out for the ridiculous ball Mother is hosting Friday. Any chance that you or Potter can pull some strings and get you a last minute portkey to Italy this week? _

_ Best, _

_ Draco _

\---------------

_ Draco, _

_ Alright. I still feel that I owe you something, so please if you need  _ _ anything _ _ let me know. Except a portkey for myself to Italy... _

_ Unfortunately, even we don’t have that much sway during the Holidays, so I won’t be able to make it to the ball. I’ll see you back at the castle soon. _

_ Hermione _

_ P.S. Maybe going through your sequencing research in your head will help you get through the ball. That’s what I normally do at Ministry functions so I don’t fall asleep talking to men who are 100 years old and secretly think I shouldn’t be there. _

\---------------

_ Hermione, _

_ I’ll try to keep that in mind, go through the intricacies of CRISPR while a bunch of pure blooded, sons-of-bitches try to marry off their daughters to me.  _

_ I must confess I haven’t kept up with a research schedule, and have mostly been trying to relax. And dodge my Father’s constant attempts at trapping me into the “You are the scion of this house” talk that I’ve already heard 8 bloody million times.  _

_ I’ve actually been trying to decide on a project for DADA, which is harder than you would think. I might be leaning towards something around the patronus charm? We should talk about it when we’re back at the castle. As long as the Weasley family, our yours (who am I to judge?) doesn’t kill you first.  _

_ DM _

\---------------

_ Draco, _

_ Unfortunately I think the only thing that might manage to kill me before I make it back to the castle is boredom. I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I actually miss talking to Blaise on a daily basis. He keeps things a lot more interesting. You are now sworn to secrecy, and can never tell him that.  _

_ Why am I bored, do you ask? I promised Harry and my parents that I wouldn’t do any research while I was here. Which apparently applies to both books you got me as well. That, and I’m too scared to open the Hogwarts, A History yet. The only reading material I have at both the Burrow and at my parent’s place are the awful bodice-ripper collections of Gin and my Mum. I’ve read three, and they’re literally all the same, just with different names and settings: quidditch man with big muscles meets shy witch, pirate with big muscles meets stow-away wench, and scottish highlander, of course with big muscles, meets a fair maiden from England. They all have lots of ‘dreamy’ sex, fall in love, and get married. These similarities across Muggle and Magical are astounding. _

_ I’d love to talk about the patronus - as someone who struggles with it, it has always intrigued me. _

_ The ball’s in two days right? At least that means once it’s over, we’re both headed back to the castle? _

_ Hermione _

_ PS There was a lot more swearing in that letter, I take it that means you’re also looking forward to the start of term? _

\---------------

_ Gin, _

_ I’ve got an emergency shopping situation - meet me in Diagon at 10 AM tomorrow. It might be a bit of a marathon day, so come prepared.  _

_ HG _

\---------------

_ Hermione, _

_ Yes, I can’t believe it either, but I miss Blaise and Longbottom. Even the students. I’m ready to get back into my routine and back to teaching. Something I’ve come to enjoy much more than I thought I would. But obviously you can’t tell anyone that either. Except Minerva, I would like to keep my job.  _

_ Yes. Wish me luck tonight, hopefully I’ll make it out in one piece without some airhead ripping my dress robes (that has happened twice, I think you’d enjoy those stories. Remind me to tell you them soon). _

_ See you in two days time. I hope that you have a pleasant New Year.  _

_ DM _

As he signed the letter, rolled it, and stamped the parchment he sighed deeply. Tonight was going to be awful. He had no date, and the woman he realized he was falling head over heels for wasn’t coming. He knew that getting a portkey this late was difficult, but he had really hoped she’d be able to make it. What good was being a war hero if you couldn’t throw your weight around every once in a while?

Checking his cufflinks one last time, he was glad he had opted for the emeralds without the diamond border for once, he picked up his cape and grabbed hold of the portkey.

\---------------

“Mate, you look bloody miserable,” said his best friend, smirking at him. Some ‘best friend.’

Malfoy sighed, “Well, my father is trying really hard with this whole meet a nice girl thing. I’ve talked to far too many society witches to be in a good mood tonight.”

“Not to mention you’re missing a certain witch,” said Blaise knowingly. 

“Oooooohhhh did you finally figure out how you feel about Granger?” questioned Theodore Nott, his other supposed best friend, in an overly excited voice.

“Seriously, Blaise? Are you  _ trying _ to get me to maim you?”

The dark wizard burst into laughter, “Well, I’m glad we’re at least to maim and not kill now. But seriously, I told you, it’s almost the new year, I’m going to start pestering her to go out with me soon.”

“Fine, whatever, you can…”

Both his friends were hanging on his words, waiting for him to finish that sentence, but he didn’t. They finally followed his line of sight behind them. 

Theo let out a long low whistle then said, “One, I totally get it now. Two, I thought she wasn’t coming?”

“She said she wasn’t,” said both Blaise and Draco at once. 

Hermione looked like a vision walking down the entrance hall steps. He noted that although she had worn Slytherin colors at Halloween, she was now, very proudly, sporting her own house colors with a satin burgundy. This gown was a departure in shape as well - a strapless sweetheart neckline, tapered in and fitted to just around her knees showed off her glorious and girl-ish figure. The skirt flared below the knee into what, for some unknown reason, Muggles called a “mermaid” fit - Mermen weren’t stylish, they were shrill. The satin shone, along with the gold jewelry draped around her neck and dripping from her ears. Her hair was swept into a tight chignon at the base of her neck, showing off a delicious collarbone he was hoping he could eat treacle fudge off of at a later date. 

He turned to ask Blaise if he knew what was going on, but he and Theo were gone, leaving him staring like a first year at Hermione walking towards him. He met her half way as to not embarrass himself too much. 

“I thought you said you didn’t have this much pull?”

She giggled, “I don’t, but someone else does,” looking over his shoulder. 

Turning, he found Blaise smirking, and his Mother raising her glass to him in a somewhat mocking, but also encouraging, toast. 

“You look stunning, like really stunning. And I sound like an idiot because I can’t say anything remotely more eloquent than that,” he said, pausing to look at her more. “Let’s dance, before I have to fight Blaise for you. He’s still pouting about the fact he didn’t get to dance with you in October.” 

He took her hand and led her into a nice slow waltz that enabled them to keep conversing. They spoke of meaningless things, but it was all easy conversation, with a lot of random ‘thank yous’ thrown in for their respective gifts. They kept dancing around a particular conversation they really needed to have. The one involving all those years that they decidedly were not friendly with one another.

After she was stolen by both Blaise and Nott, his Father looked like he might be attempting to talk to her, and who knows maybe even dance with her, so Draco quickly grabbed her hand and led her out to one of the many balconies. He was not curious, nor did he want to know what that trainwreck would have looked like. He shut the door, and cast a notice-me-not charm, hoping to get them some privacy. 

“This is gorgeous Draco.... I must say I expected it to be at the Manor, but this is a refreshing change.”

Well that was one way to start this conversation. He was determined not to freeze again or let her steer the conversation in another direction. 

“Hermione, we haven't had a conversation that I'd really like to have.”

Her expression changed in a way that he couldn't quite read. Maybe she was crunching numbers again.

She gave him a soft smile. “Yes, I know. I'm sorry I've been putting it off. I ran the numbers soon after you joined the staff and was afraid we wouldn't be able to get past it. But now, well…let's just say we need to have this conversation.”

They both filled their lungs with the cold night’s air, and let out a visible reflection of tension release. Draco admired it against the moonlight, but needed to stop stalling. 

“I don’t really know where to start other than to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was such an ass. I'm sorry I made fun of you, and made you feel not welcome. I'm sorry that I couldn't do anything to help in the war...and I'm…” currently he was trying not to cry. “I'm sorry for what my Aunt…”

He was unexpectedly cut off by the silly witch hugging him of all things. And she had a tight grip. He wasn’t sure if in this scenario, it was totally expected that he hug back.

“That is one thing you don't need to apologize for. I don't think I've ever heard you even say those words, but that night was difficult for everyone.”

He finally hugged her back. “Especially for you. I had nightmares for months,” he whispered into her tamed mane.

She relaxed into his hold, “I did too. But it's something I don't think about much anymore.” She looked down to her arm, “I only cover it because other people are uncomfortable seeing the scar, you can barely see it anyways.”

“Well, I truly am sorry. I’ve learned from my mistakes, and my Father’s. I think you know that I’m a pretty different person now. I'd much rather get back to being friends if we feel this is sufficient for now...”

At that she took a big breath and pulled back to look at his face, “Maybe more than friends? That's what everyone keeps telling me should or is happening… and then numbers keep…”

Nervous swot mode engaged, he decided to save her from herself. He took her face into his hands and kissed her. This kiss was meant to express sorrow, want, and hope. He wanted it to be sweet, romantic, but not too much. Was that even possible? Probably not. But there was no need to over do it and make her remember the “SS” incident, as she had once termed it.

Pulling back slowly, trying to keep his nerves in check, he checked her face. She was beaming, as if she had just received a stack of rare books that her students were equally as excited to read as she was. Something she informed him was never actually the case.

“You keep surprising me Mr. Malfoy,” she said with a sly grin. 

He laughed and stood back half a step and bowed to her. “That's my father Miss.” Smirking he stuck his hand out, “My name is Professor Draco Lucius Malfoy, but please, call me Draco. Miss?”

Giggling, she grabbed his hand in her delicate one and shook it, “My name is Hermione Granger. Please call me Hermione. Pleased to meet you sir.” Her small curtsy was adorable, but was going to need work if she ever wanted to meet his Grandmother.

Taking her hand, at the perfect angle as his mother would have surely pointed out, he kissed it delicately. But since he already had an in with her, and this was not in fact their first meeting, he turned it in his grasp and sensually kissed her palm and wrist, looking out from under his lashes with his best “Let's fuck in about two dates” eyes. Okay...maybe one date.

“Would you care to go to dinner next Friday Miss Granger? I've got just the place in mind.”

“I'd love to.”

“Perfect. Let's go dance before Zabini or Nott… or, Merlin forbid, my Mother try to come find us.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some light lemons at the end of this chapter! So if it's not your thing, you'll want to skip the last bit. 
> 
> Thanks Belisama for all your beta amazingness :)

It was no mistake that the scents Hermione smelled from amortentia smelled a lot like Hogwarts: there were never-ending amounts of parchment everywhere, the Quidditch pitch and grounds were kept in tip top shape, and the vaguely leather smell reminded her of all of the books everywhere in the castle. She was in love with the well kept Scottish secret. It was one of her favorite places, and seemed to be switching roles with her flat. One was the primary residence, the other was becoming more temporary. Especially if her blonde boyfriend... well, there was a 93% chance that was the appropriate term, made it through the school year. She mentally told herself it was nice to be home when she made her way into the Great Hall for breakfast on the first day of Spring term. 

Per usual, she found the table to be mostly empty. She tipped her head towards Minerva when she got to the table, and for some reason her boss looked  _ even more _ like a cat that got the cream than usual. Apparently her “constant vigilance” was falling by the wayside if Minerva knew something that she didn’t. She began to mentally trace her gossip to see if she could figure it out.

Neville arrived soon after she did and they quickly caught up about their Holidays. Apparently he had  _ finally _ proposed to Hannah, and as she had predicted (99.99%), it went off without a hitch. They were looking to have a Fall wedding at the castle in October. Hermione couldn’t wait. 

“Tesoro,” said Blaise grabbing her hand and kissing it, as he unexpectedly arrived at the table with Draco close behind him, interrupting her and Neville’s discussion on the best type of flowers for Fall. “It’s time we finally get to know each other better. I missed you far too much during the break. What if you come to mine for some firewhiskey on Friday.”

She laughed uncomfortably, pulling her hand away before he could kiss it. “I’m sorry dear sir, but I already have plans for Friday.”

“Well they’re obviously not as important or exciting as us getting to know each other...more intimately,” he said wiggling his eyebrows. That smirk alone probably got most girls to collapse into a spineless pile in his lap. 

“Actually,” said Draco sitting down casually next to her, deciding Blaise’s scene didn’t need dramatics in response. “Hermione’s not going to be in the Castle after Thursday afternoon. Keep up Zabini.”

“Wait, I’m not?” she said with a confused look. Draco just smiled at her knowingly and patted her shoulder. 

Minerva walked up with her feline smile. Oh no, this is what she knew. 

“Mr. Malfoy, I’ve approved your and Ms. Granger’s request to, as you so eloquently put it, ‘escape the god-forsaken, unromantic castle’ for the weekend. Enjoy yourselves,” she finished with her best Slytherin-esque smirk. Hermione could see Minerva’s brain going wild. She was probably already deciding which of their quarters would best expand to house two professors. 

Blaise didn’t look disappointed at all. And then he winked at her. Bloody hell, was everyone conspiring against her? Narcissa freaking Malfoy had secretly gotten her a last minute international portkey for crying out loud. Surely Neville wasn’t, and Ron obviously couldn’t be. But then Blaise turned and stuck his hand out to the quiet Herbology professor next her, and it was clear that she had spoken too soon. 

Shyly, Neville reached in his pocket and pulled out 3 galleons. After handing them to Blaise, he looked at her apologetically and shrugged, “I obviously couldn’t ask you for a prediction on this one.”

\---------------

“So where are we going?”

That was the fifty-seventh time she had asked him this week. 

“I told you, Granger,” he drawled. “It’s a surprise. The little Weaslette-Potter told me you weren’t particularly fond of surprises, but I didn’t think it was  _ this _ bad.”

“Wait, you talked to Ginny? That’s just not fair. Everyone is plotting against me. Did you talk to Harry as well, or is that crossing some sort of line still? Will you at least tell me what I need to pack? I need to plan…”

“Oh I’m aware my dear. I know how much you crave control. I’ve had one of the house-elves pack for you. You’ll be ready to leave tonight. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

She sighed deeply and plopped onto the edge of his desk. He was finishing a little grading before they had to leave. He had made her swear to him there would be no Hogwarts or research related distractions this weekend, which meant he also had to follow that rule. He was a gentleman after all.

“I’m very excited, really I am. You’re so considerate. I’m just...a little anxious.”

He smiled at her and calmingly ran the backs of his fingers up and down her calf, “I know. But it’s going to be fun. I promise.” 

And it really was. They were headed to his Mother’s fifth wedding anniversary gift, a cottage right on the water in St. Tropez. One of the best seafood restaurants was just down the road, and they’d be able to enjoy some sun and such due to it being a wizarding stretch of beach. There were two bedrooms, but he was secretly hoping there wouldn’t be a need for the second after the first night or two. They’d be returning Sunday night, so hopefully all went well. He had a feeling he might not be able to stay in the castle if it didn’t. 

“Draco! Now who needs to stop over thinking and spacing out?” she said laughing. “Don’t worry, as worried as I am, this weekend likely is going to be a success. I just can’t tell what the outcome is. You really are muddying the waters in regards to the numbers. I’m not thrilled about it.” But he knew she was. She secretly liked the challenge of figuring it out. He personally thought not being sure of everything was good for her. 

He finished the last essay and grabbed her ankle to get her attention as she was reading her own book, perched on his desk. 

“Let’s go,” he pronounced standing and kissing the top of her head. 

\---------------

“You could have at least warned me of the International portkey,” came the complaint from his date behind the bathroom door. “Not that I’m complaining that we’ve somehow gotten a full, sun-filled beach day today, in the middle of January, but my stomach is still flipping every couple hours.”

He smirked, “You sure that’s not just the proximity to me for an extended period of time?” He heard a sarcastic “ha” and then a clatter of something on the countertop.

She had been primping ahead of their dinner for far longer than he thought she would. He understood that her hair was something that needed to be tamed, or at least she thought it needed to be, he personally preferred a little danger in his cuddling, but surely Hermione Granger was not like other witches taking hours to get ready. 

Looking down at his pocket watch he realized it had only been about forty minutes. Apparently he was anxious to actually get to the date portion of their weekend. Thus far it had just been a day laying in the climate-controlled, charmed sun with a close friend, getting a break from the little hellions and nosiness of their friends. His heart had raced a little when she had emerged in her dark navy bikini, but other than that it had been relaxingly normal. 

Tonight however, was game changing. This is when their relationship could actually formally change, instead of them continuing in whatever they were doing now. He just didn’t want it to go poorly. And despite her trust in the numbers, he was nervous. 

She finally opened the door, and he was not really nervous anymore, more so wanting to get through dinner so they could be in private again. He knew the dress was going to be perfect when he saw it. 

“You really get too much satisfaction in me wearing your house colors,” she said laughing and spinning around slowly. Apparently she had noticed his jaw on the floor. 

Her legs were something he had been missing in the cold months. She always had floor length skirts, or pants on in the castle. But not tonight. Tonight he had put her in a forest green fitted sheath dress ending just above her knee. It was a simple dress, long sleeves and a crew neckline, but it possessed a tasteful V-shaped back. He put her in a nice dangling necklace with an interlocking set of triangles charm that he had seen out shopping with his mother. 

“At least I kept the jewelry gold, imagine my reaction if it had been silver,” he said offering his elbow. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.” He hoped the implication of her being on the menu tonight was clear. Her slightly shaky hand on his arm most likely confirmed this. 

\---------------

Dinner was going off without a hitch. The conversation, as he should of expected, was smooth and moved easily to different topics. Including their traitorous friends and families. 

“You really do look marvelous tonight, Hermione.”

She smiled, looking into her lap, “You don’t look so bad yourself. This really was a great idea. It’s nice to finally get some time to ourselves. Something apparently at a premium.”

As much as he would love to watch her keep eating her pot de creme, the sensuality in which she handled a spoon in combination with her blush at his compliment was making him wish they were elsewhere. 

He stuck his finger in the air and there was immediately a waiter at his side. 

“L’addition, s’il vous plait.” 

“Monsieur Malfoy, are you in a rush to get back to the cottage? I’m not done with my dessert,” she said giving him a sly smile before proceeding to lick her spoon clean. Now he knew she was teasing him 

She had taken the first bold conversational step last time they had almost slept with each other, so it was only fair he jump off the cliff first this time. 

“Mademoiselle Granger, as much as I’m enjoying watching you assault that spoon, which apparently qualifies as eating to you, there are other things at the cottage I think we’d both prefer that you lick.”

\---------------

Her stomach was full of butterflies on their walk back, post dinner. The cool evening air was helping them both to cool down a smidge, but it wasn’t doing much to stave the heat that had been built during dinner. How could it when the last thing spoken in the restaurant had been one of the classiest possible ways to ask your dinner date to blow you when you got back to the place you were staying? 

Unlike the Halloween Ball, Hermione was planning on having sex with Draco Malfoy this evening. It wasn’t going to be a game-time decision that ended up surprising her. When she had told him she was unsure of the outcome of the weekend, she was kind of lying. The numbers clearly predicted there was an 93.1% chance of them sleeping together while on the trip, and a 77.6% chance of it happening after dinner Friday night. But since he had been throwing off her predictions so frequently she had to be cautious. She had no intention of using the second room for the rest of the weekend, and she hoped that he got that vibe too. She suspected he had.

He had taken her hand when they left the restaurant, a departure from the offering of an arm that normally happened. He had been eyeing her neck during dinner more than once. He even shared a couple bites with her. Then there was the spoon incident, which was totally incidental on her part. She really loved chocolate desserts, and this was the best she’d ever had. If she were younger and American, she’d probably say that he was DTF. Or at least that’s what she thought the phrase was. 

When they reached the door she suddenly was trying to remember what set of lacy undergarments that had been packed for her she was wearing. Funny how whoever had picked out her clothing had the distinct impression that there was a need for lingerie on the trip. That in and of itself probably should have increased that 93.1% to 100%. Then she remembered she had gone with the black set with silver trim and bows. Gryffindor head of house indeed. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was trying to get her students to turn on her. 

Once inside, Draco graciously took her coat and went to fetch some wine. Hopefully he also recognized that the wine would probably get finished much later in the evening. Nevertheless, she appreciated his slow approach, especially since the quick method hadn’t gone that smoothly last time. She settled onto the couch waiting for him to return. 

The cottage was really more of an upscale beach residence than anything. The furniture was homey, but that was mostly because it was clearly vintage. Possibly Victorian era if she had to guess. Lucius clearly was trying to spoil his wife when he had bought and decorated the place. 

She was pulled out of her enjoyment of what could very well have been an unaccounted for Pissarro when Draco returned with a two glasses and the bottle, but only one of the glasses was poured. She must have made a face because he chuckled handing her the glass, and set the others on the coffee table. 

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I’ll have a glass in a bit. You just enjoy yours.”

She took a sip. It was divine. So divine that after her second sip, she closed her eyes and laid her head back over the couch and let out an “mmmmm.”

“I’m glad you like it. I’ll have to tell my Father to stock up.” He sounded kind of far away, and had yet to sit down on the couch next to her.

Then, for some inexplicable reason, her foot was cold. When she sat up and opened her eyes to investigate, he indeed was kneeling down taking her shoes off. He had taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves to his forest green plaid button-up, and was smiling at her in a deliciously naughty way. 

“Didn’t I just tell you to relax and enjoy your wine Professor Granger?” 

She nodded. She might not be capable of speaking in a coherent fashion right now. He looked so sexy, and determined. That could be a dangerous combination she thought. She might melt into a puddle on the floor any second. 

“Good. Now relax, I'll help.”

And oh boy did he help. After getting her shoes off he began giving her a foot massage. From the bloody floor. About half-way through her glass of wine he poured himself one and began taking sips between the massaging strokes and kisses that were working their way up her calves. The origin of the moans escaping her lips were difficult to determine at this point. It was likely about 70/30 in Draco’s favor at this point. But she was hoping it was harder to tell than that. 

“Miss Granger, you must really like this wine,” he declared before biting her inner thigh just above the knee. 

Nope, apparently it was not difficult at all. She was starting to squirm some, and as he started to push up her skirt to gain more access to her aforementioned thighs, she thought it was probably a good time to set down the wine. 

While she reached for the side table, she noticed that the light was lower and candles had been lit. When had that happened? What time was it? How long had they been back? And was that…it sounded like there was some type of light beat in the background. Was that...was that Usher? No, now it was John Legend. 

“Draco Malfoy, do you have a muggle makeout playlist on right now?”

He just winked at her and licked her thigh, continuing to raise her skirt. It was caught on her bum and she had to lift her hips to let him get it above her hips. 

“Maybe it’s just part of my plot to seduce you Hermione. Is it working?” he asked slyly getting her skirt out of the way.

“Hmm I’m not sure yet, we’d better confirm its effectiveness,” she said trying not to giggle. She really did enjoy their repartee. 

“Agreed.” And with that he moved her black lace knickers to the side and proceeded to lick her in a much more intimate way. That moans origin was very clear - it was caused by Draco’s amazingly talented tongue. 

As her stomach began to flutter more, she felt a slight amount of regret. Why in the world had she run away from him on Halloween? She was apparently missing out on a lot. A lot of orgasms that weren’t from her own hand. The one currently building up was going to have her seeing stars. Well, at least figuratively. Women didn’t spontaneously lose vision during climax despite what romance novels may have you believe. 

“I can see you thinking,” he said huskily breaking her out of her thoughts. “I know you said you have a hard time turning off your brain, but I thought that a spectacular pick up line, a divine glass of wine, and some couch oral would really work.”

“But you said  _ I _ would be doing the licking…”

“Really? That’s what you got from that? Hermione, I want you to enjoy…”   
  
“Oh trust me, I’m enjoying it. That’s what I was thinking about.”

“Good. Is the couch distracting? We could always move somewhere…”   


“Nope. Couch is fine. But your talking is distracting so-”

She was cut off by two fingers sliding into her. Now she really did stop thinking. The sensation of him moving in and out coupled with the sensation of his tongue circling and sweeping over her clit was going to send her over the edge. And soon. All she needed was…exactly what he did. He found the sweet spot inside her that drove her crazy. Stroking it, trying to milk her pleasure from her. She almost could feel the smirk that had faintly formed over her clit. 

And then her orgasm overtook her. She arched slightly off the couch, letting out a low groan, and repeating Draco’s name a couple times. 

“How are you good at everything?” she managed, coming down from her high of hormones. 

He laughed, but didn’t say anything. Looking down, she discovered he was licking and sucking on his fingers while making intense eye contact. He was clearly enjoying himself. He then downed the rest of his wine. 

“That pairs together quite well actually. If I had known that, we would have had dinner much sooner Ms. Granger.”

“Agreed,” she said breathily. “Now, I believe there was something about a bedroom mentioned?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a long wait! Midterms were crazy this year, and then I got sick. But nevertheless, here is the chapter!
> 
> There are definitely lemons so if you're not about that, make sure to skip down about half to two-thirds of the way through. After this it's just a short and sweet epilogue to wrap things up, and I'll be posting it later this week.

Slowly working their way to the bedroom that Draco had been using, Hermione quickly became bare with the exception of her bra and panties, they stopped to utilize as much free wall space as possible. It was literally -- not figuratively -- out of the last rom com that she had made Neville watch with her. If this chemistry kept up, it was very possible she wouldn’t let Draco leave the castle. Even if the curse held -- it wasn’t going to, there now was a 98.6% chance he was staying -- she would just keep him in her chambers. Potentially shackled to the wall, she had a feeling they would both enjoy that.

He nipped her ear, and whispered, “As good as I am Hermione, I can’t open the door to my -- our -- bedroom if its covered by your lovely ass.” 

She smirked at him and opened it wordlessly, and wandlessly. “Well then you need to step up your game Draco.” 

“You’re bloody brilliant,” he said surging into a crushing kiss and picking her up under her bum. 

He preoccupied himself by attacking her neck just like the hot Quidditch player from Ginny’s novel. Apparently it wasn’t a lazy adjective. He was licking, nipping, nuzzling, kissing, and biting. Throw those all together and attack seemed apt. The assault on her neck stopped suddenly as she was somewhat unceremoniously dropped onto the edge of the bed. He kissed her in a more sensual way and then took a step back. 

Keeping what might be considered an intimidating amount of eye contact by some, he began unbuttoning his shirt. As much as she loved the icy, heather color of his eyes, she really needed to confirm what she had suspected about his body. Back in October while they were snogging on his settee, she had snuck a quick feel under his shirt and had fueled the rumor that he was quite fit.

As she watched the garment come off, she felt it was a little too cheesy to compare him to a Greek work of art or a washboard; and it seemed in bad taste to compare him to professional Quidditch players or those she had seen shirtless in person. She decided that his body was just what she pictured it would be. He was built, but angular. The flying with Blaise was clearly doing wonders for his abs. And just like a swimsuit model, he had that delectable hint of V at his hips. 

“Enjoying yourself, Granger?” he said looking at her intently. When she finally looked him in the eyes, he smiled genuinely, but the grin quickly turned mischievous. She had seen that look many a time on one Weasley twin or another. Now smirking, he urged his eyes downward, she followed and she settled on a substantial bulge. 

Of course Draco Malfoy had a sizable cock. Other than being a little shit as a child, he did everything right. He had everything he wanted. Draco Malfoy was damn near perfect, and apparently that logic kept below the waist as well. 

“Are the numbers bothering you now?”

“Definitely not. But the speed in which you are disrobing definitely is…”

“As the lady wishes…”

The zip on his pants came down efficiently, revealing sensible black boxer shorts. And a more defined bulge. One that was pushing into the soft material of his underwear. Squinting she could see it was damp. Unconsciously, she reached out to grab the waistband that had obnoxiously large white letters spelling out “ARMANI” and pulled them towards her. 

He had no option but stepping up to her between her legs in front of the bed. Now she was in contact with what she could not fully see, something that might be getting the spoon treatment later. He felt so good, and she wasn’t even having flashbacks from the unfortunate SS incident. 

“Draco, as much as I enjoy a slow pace, we’re past this and I would really love it if we just went for it. Kinda sums things up nicely for us, doesn’t it?” 

“Ms. Granger I think that is an excellent idea.” 

And before you could say, “Harry, did ya put your name in the Goblet of Fire?” Draco had his expensive drawers off and was rubbing himself through her folds preparing for a moment of high anticipation for both of them. 

Draco groaned into her ear, bringing her attention back to him. “Have you been this wet all night, Hermione? Should you have cleaned off the chair after dinner? Or did the couch session cause you to start dripping? You have no idea how incredibly satisfying this is, or how incredibly satisfying it will be for me to have you calling my name by the end of the night.” 

At the end of this statement he began kissing down her jaw while simultaneously pushing into her slowly. The stretching she was experiencing was exquisite. So exquisite that it apparently cured her temporary muteness. 

“Oh yes, Draco. Oh, you feel so good.” Real coherent there girl, well done. 

Draco smirked against her neck before biting it lightly, pulling the skin away between his teeth. That was definitely going to leave a mark. He was staying put, so she began to wiggle her hips searching for more friction to desperately stoke and then extinguish the flame building in her core. 

“Use your words dear, what do you want?” he asked in a low and gravelly voice. 

“Please, Draco. I want you to move. Please,” she whined, sounding like a bratty child. She was begging for a treat though so maybe it was appropriate.

He began to pull back in an excruciatingly slow manner. He had also stopped kissing her neck, raising up to be even with her gaze. “Like this, Hermione? You want me to keep taking my time, make this moment last as long as it can?”

She huffed at the suggestion. She knew that he was teasing her, but she just wanted to get down to it. They could save slow for later, they still had two more days in which she estimated there was a low chance (13%) of making it out of the house regularly. 

“No Draco, I want you to fuck me. I’m begging you to fuck me. I want you to get me worked up until I am yelling at the ceiling and our neighbors know about your sexual prowess and are jealous of me…”

There was the smirk again, “Well, why didn’t you say that first Miss Granger? Fucking it is.” And with that he slammed into her, letting out a groan when he was again fully sheathed inside her. 

“Yes, oh you feel amazing…” she was going to keep rambling about how amazing his cock was, but luckily his cock hitting a particularly pleasing spot stopped her on the spot. He had a knack for making her speechless, which really was getting on her nerves. But she figured it was okay in this context. The rhythm he was building was study, and there was force behind his hips, but he was definitely not going full out in his fucking.

“Alright Miss Granger, let’s see what you’ve got.” 

Well that was weird dirty talk. But as she was pondering what the comment meant, they were flipped and she found herself astride Draco Malfoy, in control. He wanted her to ride him. And she couldn’t wait. 

She began slowly as he had, just by rolling her hips, making the occasional swivel, revelling in how full she felt. He was keeping his hands busy palming her ass cheeks, kneading them in rhythm with her movements. She returned the squeezing by pinching his nipples, making him hiss and close his eyes. Hermione consequently tucked that one into the memory bank. Draco Malfoy was a nipple man in more ways than one.

The tension building in her was beginning to be too much, she needed more. Leaning back, she reached her hands for his shins. Once she had her hands planted, she began to raise and lower herself. This angle really was one of her favorites, and it had the added bonus of giving Draco a glorious view. Which he had not peeled his eyes off of after her shift. He was hypnotized by seeing himself being engulfed every couple moments. 

She laid her head back as she continued to move, and was pleasantly surprised when Draco’s talented fingers found her clit. Within ten of the longest and most glorious seconds in her life, she was loudly moaning in her release, emphasizing Draco’s name. He sat up in time to grab her lower back pulling her towards him. 

Holding her in place with one hand, he nudged her knees, and grabbed her legs to wrap around his hips. Sitting in his lap, she began kissing her neck as he kept his shallow, slow strokes. She decided her Gryffindor boldness was coming back, so she kissed up to his ear and whispered in her best sexy tone, “What do we want to try next?”

“I think I’ve got an idea,” he said lifting her off his lap and spinning her around so she was facing the foot of the bed. He grabbed her ass, gently pulling her up onto all fours, giving her a light tap on the rear when she was in position. 

Making it very clear he meant to take her from behind by bringing his thighs in line with hers, and gently pushing her upper back down towards the bed (but not flush with the mattress), he then grabbed her pony tale. He turned it over his hands a couple times, giving it a small tug. 

“We still good Hermione?”

“Oh, yes. We are certainly still good.”

“Excellent.”

With another tug of her hair, he pushed into her and set a relentless pace. She began whining and making noises that were uncouth in any place other than the bedroom. In the bedroom they were noises of praise. 

Draco was more eloquent in his praise, “Yes, just like that. I want to hear you Hermione. You told me you wanted to be yelling at the ceiling, how’s the mattress as an alternative? You are so tight, so wet, I’m going to lose it soon. I love this view, watching myself go in and out, seeing your ass and your cunt. What would you do if I starting smacking those cheeks? Hmm? Oh, we have so much to explore.”

Then he began grunting, becoming more erratic, clearly he was close. He began proclaiming it as well. 

“Yes, yes, yes, oh Granger.”

She felt it appropriate to help him out, “Yes, Draco. Fill me up, I want you to fill me.”

That did it, Draco was roaring in his release, and slammed into her. Finally upon slowing, he wrapped his arm around her waist, and turned to their sides, laying back down onto the bed. 

Kissing her back, he breathless declared, “That’s it, now we’re not going to leave the bed except to eat, and go back to Scotland. 

Her giggles echoed through the room before she said, “I concur.”

\---------------

Hermione was sitting on the couch in the cottage waiting for Draco to finish his shower so that they could head back to Hogwarts. She smiled to herself and plopped back into the cushions. What a weekend. 

They had christened pretty much every room with the exception of the study and the guest bathroom. They also decided it was not worth going back to Hermione’s original room because the bed was bigger in the master, and the mattress a little sturdier. She had lost track of the number of orgasms around 10 AM the second day. Not only had they woken after dozing the previous evening, but they had gone two rounds before breakfast. 

There had been a wide range of positions and exploring done. She knew he liked having his collarbone licked. He knew that she enjoyed a light spanking. She knew that he liked having a view of her, all spread open just for him. He knew she liked it when he sucked on the underside of her breasts. They both knew they were excited to keep exploring. 

Arguably one of the best benefits from the weekend was that Hermione finally felt at peace with the numbers again. They didn’t seem to be fighting her anymore. Maybe this meant that she and Draco might actually make some meaningful research progress. That also meant that maybe she could finally get that creme brulee recipe down this summer. That, or she would just have to figure out how to bribe Winky. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Just hearing his gentle voice made her smile. Looking up she saw that Draco had their bags and was ready to go back to the castle. He had a nice burgundy sweater on, and donned his cloak unclasped. Ever the professor figure when students were involved, and she certainly wasn’t complaining. She also had on her teaching attire, a high collared blouse and long skirt, which he had informed her had far too many buttons and showed far too little skin.

“Just thinking about how lovely of a weekend we had. And how the numbers aren’t fighting me anymore.” 

He smirked, “Well then I’m clearly not trying hard enough. You need a challenge,” he said winking. Yes, this man was damned near perfect and she was ready to take back any statement she had made to the contrary at the beginning of the year. He extended his hand, helping her off the couch. 

“Let’s go before McGonnigal has a heart attack and thinks we’re never coming back. Also, I’d love to actually shag you in my chambers now.”

\---------------

For the first time all term Draco was early to breakfast. He even beat his now girlfriend down to the head table. Granted, she  _ had _ spent the night in his rooms and she had to go back to hers for a fresh set of teaching robes. Surely she would proclaim he cheated when he brought it up later. 

Minerva was already there and made a point of asking him about his weekend. He decided it was best to go with a non-committal approach. 

“It was nice. Good weather, delicious food. No fighting children.”

She smiled over her spectacles, “Good. I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves.” She gave him a pointed look, and he was glad at that moment he was not a skilled Legilimens. He really didn’t want to know what that old woman was thinking and/or plotting.

As she took her seat the rest of his colleagues wandered in, with Hermione and Longbot-- Neville bringing up the rear. But being the gentleman that he was, he had made sure to save the seat on his left for her, and his right for Blaise.

“Long time no see. But really,” said Blaise plopping into the chair. Draco laughed at this, “No, really I was sad not to see your or Granger’s face this weekend. I was stuck with Longbottom all weekend.”

“Oh, whatever.” Draco turned to him to make sure that Blaise saw the enormous eye-roll he was putting effort into. “You like Neville. Hell, I like Neville. You probably cheated him out of a few galleons over cards and some Firewhiskey.”

“You know me too well, Mate.” Blaise decided he would tuck into his pancakes. “But I do want to hear about your time with Granger. You two finally official then? Is there even a point in me suggesting I invite myself over for some gin and details?”

Hermione saved the day by arriving at the table and kissing the side of his head. She then pulled her chair out to sit down, and Draco was sure that everyone had heard the scraping noise against the floor. The Hall had gotten very quiet after her infinitesimal gesture of affection. 

Blaise did his part and smirked, saying in a low voice, “Never mind, that’s all I need to know. And that’s all I’ll get out of you, since it’s clear you two are finally the real deal. I know you don’t kiss and tell with the birds that actually matter.” 

Luckily, as it had a reputation for doing, the owls delivering mail distracted everyone again. Draco was unfolding the Daily Prophet when Hermione reached over to pinch him.

“You git,” she accused sharply, “Why didn’t you tell me you told her?”

“Told who, what?” Her response was to shove a very nice piece of parchment in his face.

_ Dear Hermione, _

_ First, congratulations my dear. I am so excited to hear that you and Draco are finally together. I hear that you enjoyed my cottage in St. Tropez this weekend, it really is one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. _

_I would love to have you join me for tea sometime this coming weekend so that we can get to know each other better. Obviously we have met, but don’t think we’ve been formally introduced, and it’s been_ _far_ _too long since I’ve had a witty and intelligent female friend to speak with._

_ Please owl back to let me know when you’d like to visit. And I’m sure Draco is going to insist he should come, but tell him it’s just girl time.  _

_ Yours Truly, _

_ Narcissa Malfoy _

_ P.S. Severus told me that he is disappointed that you two have not seemed to grasp the concept of a silencing charm. He claims that you both learned it first year. I told him that clearly Draco had forgotten his uncle’s new portrait in the study of that house. And, between you and me, I think Snape’s just grumpy that his “quiet weekend” turned into walking in on both of you again. But don’t fret my dear, my lips are sealed.  _

He laughed, “You clearly didn’t finish reading my dear, we’ve got another SS situation on our hands.”


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't help myself, I needed to tie everything together on this cute little fic. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read, left kudos, and comments. I've had a blast with my first piece and am working on some other things for the future!

**Two and a Half Years Later**

A pounding on the door interrupted the sweet moment taking place in Draco’s office. Hermione had the newest Arithmancy journal sprawled across her lap, while she was sprawled across Draco’s as he finished his first week of lesson plans. 

“There better not be anything inappropriate going on in there! You two haven’t surfaced since you’ve gotten back from your trip so I assume you’ve just been shagging like rabbits,” came the muffled shout from one of their best friends through the door. 

Draco didn’t bother looking up from the desk, “We have clothes on Zabini, you can come in.”

A smirking tanned wizard opened the door with a huge smirk on his face. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t anything untoward going on. I know better. Granger’s definitely been under that desk during more than one of our talks doing Merlin knows what.” The smirk turned towards her. 

She patted Draco’s leg as she could see a blush creeping up his neck. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell Blaise.”

He laughed, “That’s fine with me my dear, I think I prefer my active imagination to the real thing.”

“Blaise! Don’t talk about my…”

Hermione cut him off, “Blaise if you keep talking like that in front of him to make him mad, I’ll just start talking about you and Lavender at dinner.”

Draco threw his head back laughing, “Wait, you and Brown? You realize she’s teaching  _ Divination _ right? She’s cooky. And so conceited, but I guess that’s appropriate for you.”

“Granger, how did you even know that? She just got to the castle…”

“Two months ago, I know. I ran into you both in that little nook at the bottom of the stairs to the dungeons. I know all the make out spots. I do have a reputation for catching the most students 'in flagrante' after all.”

“Sneaky witch,” said Blaise shaking his head. Turning and pointing at Draco he whispered, “Not a word of this to my mother, got it?”

“I won’t say a word to anyone but you.”

“Great, let’s go lovebirds. I do not want to miss any of the welcome feast. Specifically the sorting. Longbottom and I are going to be guessing along with it again this year.”

\---------------

Finally the sorting had finished and Hermione turned to the dais, anxiously awaiting Minerva’s speech. Although it had been "fun" to try and puzzle out what Dumbledore cryptically told them during his tenure as headmaster, Hermione preferred Minerva. She really was an excellent speaker. 

The older witch cleared her throat and began, “Welcome one and all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I cannot wait for an excellent new year to begin…” 

Even though Minerva was an excellent speaker, Hermione was feeling a bit distracted. It was hard for her to not reflect on her time at Hogwarts and how different everything was now. She and Draco were— involved, Blaise was the other person she saw the most, and was quite close with. But she was also still very close and had tea with her very first friend from school every week. She and Neville were as thick as thieves. 

A quiet clapping pulled her out of her reveries, McGonnigal had finished the introduction and was onto announcements. 

“A few announcements. First, the men’s bathroom on the third floor keeps rearranging the sinks, so please be careful if you choose to use it.” Students groaned and giggled. Finally the women were not the only ones in the castle having to deal with bathroom hi-jinks. 

“On a happier note, Professor Gran --, excuse me, Professor Malf--.” Oh no, thought Hermione. Minerva looked flustered, she began to clear her throat, and took a deep breath. “The Arithmancy classroom has relocated itself just down the hall from the Defense Against the Dark Arts room.” The whispering was definitely picking up, here was the moment they had all been waiting for. 

“In related news, there is some exciting developments related to our staffing. Professor Granger and Professor Malfoy got married about a month ago.” She was forced to pause for a mix of polite clapping and loud cheering. She and her now husband, as well as the other young faculty had become quite popular. 

“To avoid any confusion, as I just demonstrated, the Malfoy that teaches Defense will be referred to as Professor Malfoy, and the Malfoy that teaches Arithmancy has decided to be referred to as Madame Malfoy. Please try your best to remember these naming conventions, but obviously there will be a few slip ups. Thankful they’re both level headed,” finished Minerva looking at them slyly. Blaise looked like he was about to lose it. Draco was snickering next to her. Level-headed indeed. 

Yes. She and Draco were married. Minerva had had kittens when they had told her they were engaged. Draco had gotten down onto one knee on the Astronomy tower on New Year's Eve a year after they had begun to date. It had been a longer engagement then they would have liked, but Lucius had gotten sick that Spring and they agreed to wait until he was better. Then the school year had started and Narcissa insisted that they have it when classes were on break so they could actually enjoy themselves. And since the one thing Hermione had put her foot down on was having the ceremony on the Hogwarts grounds, it made sense to have it during the summer. The last thing they needed were students interrupting at a less than opportune time or to have it snowing the entire time. 

They had just gotten back from their brief honeymoon to the Malfoy property in the Seychelles. There were plans for an extensive trip to Asia during the following summer in part to relax and in part to avoid Narcissa’s constant reminders that Hermione wasn’t getting any younger, and neither was she. But until then, a warm island with wonderfully clear water had been a great short escape. Not that they had seen much of the beach, or anything other than the bedroom, as they had been horribly stereotypical newlyweds. Even now Draco couldn’t keep his hands to himself, his hand had been sitting on her knee for most of dinner and was now making its way farther north. 

As he was about to reach his goal, and Minerva had moved on to the usual 'please acknowledge the name of the _Forbidden_ Forest and stay out of it' warning, Draco leaned in turning his head so that his mouth was just brushing against the shell of her ear. Ever since the Halloween ball he always did this, knowing her knickers would be soaked as a result.

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to getting back to our bedroom  _ Madame Malfoy _ .” He then licked her ear slowly, giving her a preview for the rest of her evening. She couldn’t wait to get started, apparently she was going to be the Professor tonight, and he the student.

 


End file.
